Virgins Don't Ask For It Doggy Style
by MorganOfTheFey
Summary: Marie accidentally sprains her ankle, all alone in the LA building. Luckily, Coach Logan Howlett comes to her rescue to play nurse, which leads to the proven method of "fucking the pain away" in hot revenge sex on Dr. Grey's desk. What Logan didn't know is that Marie was a virgin and he'd fall so hard for her. (AU, college, Rogan, M for graphic smut, language, and light BDSM)
1. My Lumberjack Angel (MPOV)

**A/N: Here's the run down on what this fic is about: it started off as an AU college drabble in my other fic Love Me Do, a collection of smutty and fluffy drabbles for various Marvel pairings. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, I got mentally stuck on it, wrote way more chapters than I intended, and finally gave up trying to keep deluding myself into thinking it was still a drabble. So I removed all of the chapters from Love Me Do and put them here in this new fic, which will update every Wednesday.**

**Some warnings: this has no set ending in mind. I want to keep it around ten chapters, but I cannot guarantee that. There will be occasional appearances from Victor Creed and my OC Jackie, but only when it pertains to the plot or Logan's tragic broody manpain backstory. This fic also contains strong language and graphic smut, and this will be the last time I offer that warning. It's rated M for a reason, although that doesn't actually kick off until the second chapter. **

**Also, I don't own X-Men. If I did, Sabretooth would make an appearance in every single movie, shirtless.**

* * *

><p>I cocked my head and studied the huge canvas laying on the floor. It was big enough that I'd need to view it from a few steps back to see it properly. A bit farther away and somehow up, so I could look down on it. Maybe on that table?<p>

I got up and clambered onto the table. No one else was in the classroom. In fact, I couldn't hear anyone at all. I glanced at the windows and was shocked to see only darkness. How long had I been here? I shook my head to get rid of the thought. That wasn't important. If Professor Ororo liked the painting I'd made, she'd turn it into a promotional poster for the study abroad trip to Rome and I'd get a scholarship to go too. I considered what I'd made, shuffling back and forth on the cleared surface of the table to see it from different angles.

Then I stepped on a paper that slid out from beneath my foot and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor. I was on the floor and in pain. So much pain. And there was no one here to help me. Oh god, I was going to die like an old person, fallen and unable to get up. Where was life alert when I needed it?

"I swear to the baby fucking Jesus, if you kids are dicking around in—"

I lifted my head with great difficulty and saw the manliest lumberjack in the world. He looked like he'd just stumbled out of a forest, got into a combination street-fight-slash-hockey-game, and came to this university to steal yo girl.

I was willing to be stolen. Or taken. My body was ready for him to take me real hard.

At least that's what I thought until I tried to stand up. Then I realized my body wasn't ready for anything at all. I almost fell back on my face again before strong arms caught me, pulling me against a chest like a barrel.

A barrel of manliness.

"You all right, kid?" a gruff voice asked.

"I—" I forced myself to close my mouth before I started stuttering and did a mental check of my body. "I think I landed on my ankle."

"Here." the lumberjack-angel set me back on the table and knelt in front of me. "Let me look at it."

I almost wept at the sight of such a beautiful man on his knees in front of me. I was just a shy girl from a small neighborhood in Mississippi, one of those super religious, conservative, hard right village of fuckers. And I thanked God every day I got out of that environment, but I still hadn't quite adjusted to the normal world where you could sit next to a boy who wasn't your husband and people kissed before their wedding day.

And now I had a gorgeous man paying attention to me, and I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing while he felt up my ankle. It was literally the most action I'd ever gotten in my entire life. Sure, I'd kissed Cody, but in comparison, I didn't think that even came close to—

"Kid?"

I blinked and looked back down at my lumberjack-angel. "I'm sorry, what?"

He cleared his throat. "Said it wasn't broken. Probably just sprained. You hit your head any?"

I felt my entire face turn red with embarrassment. He thought I'd hit my head. Less than two minutes, and he probably thought I was some weirdo idiot.

"M'fine," I mumbled before my Southern manners kicked in. "Thank you for helping me though. Um, why are you here so late?"

"I was meeting with one of my players to talk about his grades," he said.

I had no idea what he meant by _players_ and that must have shown.

"I'm Logan Howlett."

"Um … my name is Marie," I offered.

"The Wolverine?"

"What?"

"You really don't know who I am."

I was so confused, but at least I managed to stop myself from answering that he was a beautiful lumberjack-angel derived straight from the wet dreams of women everywhere.

"Should I know you?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "You go to school here?"

The man said that like it should answer everything, and I felt more and more stupid by the second. He seemed to sense that and took pity on me by explaining.

"I'm the coach. Led our team to the finals for three years running. They called me the Wolverine when I played because once I had the ball, I fucking held onto it." He stopped and abruptly stood up, clearing his throat. "Uh, sorry about the language. What are you doing here so late?"

"Painting," I pointed at the canvas on the floor, grateful to have something to say. "I'm making a poster for Professor Ororo's study trip to Rome."

His expression cleared and he grunted. "Yeah, she's been trying to wrangle me into that for a while. But it's almost seven, kid."

I blushed again. "I just lost track of time. I'm sure I'll be fine though, so I'll just—"

I almost crumpled again when I tried to stand up. The only thing that stopped that from happening was my lumberjack-angel when he caught me once again.

"Whoa, hey. You shouldn't put weight on that so soon. I can uh … " he glanced around the room like a real doctor might jump out of the shadows. "I can bandage it up for you and get you an ice pack."

"O-okay."

Then I was flying. I gasped and clutched at his arms as he swung me up in his arms and strode out of the new room, carrying me bridal style. My heart pounded, and I clung to him while he walked down the hall.

"You all right?" he suddenly asked. "I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?"

"Nope," I squeaked.

His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway of the Liberal Arts building I focused on breathing evenly and slowing my heart rate so I could speak in a normal voice.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Jeannie's room."

"Who?"

"Uh, Dr. Grey."

I groaned before I could stop myself. He looked down at me in amusement. Dr. Jean Grey was the head of the Psychology department and the very epitome of a bitch. Everyone knew she cheated on her husband, the Lit Ed professor. She didn't even have his last name, and the rumor was that she fucked one of the coaches and—

I gasped loudly and stared up at the no-longer mystery man.

"You're Dr. Grey's wild, mystery lover! She makes thinly veiled references to you all the time!"

His brows furrowed. "Is she still telling people we're fu—uhhh … sleeping together?"

"Oh yeah."

"Godda—" he stopped the curse and then growled out, "We're not involved anymore. Here, can you lean against this wall?"

I didn't have a chance to reply. He sat me down, and I tried to rest as much of my weight against the wall as possible. Logan Howlett, aka Dr. Grey's not-so-secret-lover who is apparently not-so-much-her-lover either, jimmied the door handle and hip checked the door just right to make it open. I caught a glimpse of the plaque on the wall before he picked me back up again and carried me into Dr. Grey's office. I let him manhandle me and set me down on her desk. I didn't mean to be ungrateful, but I didn't understand why we had to be in the queen bitch's office.

"Um … Mr. Howlett?"

He turned around and looked back at me from where he was rifling through the stuff on Dr. Grey's shelves. His face looked a little flushed. Had I been too heavy for him? I glanced at his biceps straining against the flanel shirt covering them and quickly ruled out that possibility. Maybe … I noticed the dog tags hanging over his shirt. All the men who served that I'd ever known were super strict about respect.

"Sir?" I tried again. "Why are we here?"

He walked toward me without an answer, and I had a brief fantasy that he was going to ravish me right there on the desk. Instead, he went around the desk and opened a few drawers.

"First aid kit," he announced, holding one up. "If I can get your shoe off, I'll wrap up your ankle with some gauze and I'm sure there's an ice pack somewhere."

"You don't need to bother—"

"Stick your leg out."

I automatically complied, and he knelt in front of me again. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he slipped my shoe off, but I still gave a hiss of pain. I closed my eyes while he worked until it was finished and he stood up again.

"I can get you something for the pain," he offered.

"Say no to drugs," I blurted out.

He smirked. "I'll keep that in mind if anyone offers me some. But I meant an ice pack. Or maybe I could—wait, let me see your student ID."

Once again, I obeyed without thinking about it. I pulled my ID out of my pocket and handed it over.

"You're twenty?"

"Yeah, I'll be twenty-one in a month," I said, even though I didn't understand why my age mattered right now.

"All right," he gave it back and leaned in close. "In that case, let me … kiss the pain away."

My jaw dropped open. "Is this a practical joke?"

His face closed off and he pulled away, but I kept babbling.

"That's really mean. Are people going to jump out and laugh at me now?"

"Laugh at you?"

I looked down and scowled at my stupid ankle. "Well, we both know you're way out of my league."

"Darling," he lifted my chin back up. "Don't say shit like that. You're beautiful and a damn good artist and I want to kiss you. If that ain't what you want, I'll get you your ice pack and call you a ride home, but don't you talk bad about yourself."

I stammered in shock for a moment and then finally whimpered out, "Please?"

He caught on that I wanted the first scenario and immediately leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. They were so warm. My whole body felt warm. I couldn't believe _the_ Logan Howlett wanted to kiss me. In fact, it almost sounded like he wanted to say something else when he offered to make the pain go away. Was he going to say fuck? I'd only known him for about twenty minutes, but that seemed like something he'd say.

He drew back, and we both panted in the quiet of the room.

"Do you want—"

"What were you—"

We stopped and each waited for the other to continue. I gathered my courage and went first.

"What were you going to say?" I asked. "Earlier? It wasn't kiss."

"I was going to offer to fuck the pain away," he said lowly. "But if you're not that type of girl, I understand."

I was a virgin. The only boy I'd ever officially dated was Cody, who turned out to be a creep, although I'd gone on other sporadic dates with different people. I didn't do one night stands because I didn't want to get white girl murdered, but this man—this lumberjack-angel—had helped me, been nice to me, offered to call me a ride, made sure I wanted this … I felt safe with him.

And I was so sick of being a "virgin." I'd learned in my humanities class that "virgin" originally meant someone whose blood had never been used in a ritual before, but Christians just had to go and change the interpretation to fit their "moral views." So technically, the whole campus was full of virgins.

But that didn't stop people from giving me shit about it. Not that I wanted to make a decision this big based on their opinions, but sex sounded awesome, and I didn't like the possibility that I could be seriously missing out. And maybe if I just went ahead and got it over with, like pulling off a bandaid, it wouldn't seem like such a big, scary thing anymore.

Plus, I really wanted to have sex with Dr. Grey's former lover on her desk. I hated that bitch so much, and it was literally the best _fuck you_ I could think of. It didn't hurt at all that the man in question was the hottest guy to ever speak to me, either.

"Prove it," I said.

He made an adorably confused face, like a lost puppy.

"I'm sure there are condoms in here somewhere," I waved my hand around to indicate the office. "So prove that you can—fuck the pain away."

I stumbled a little on the swear, but at least I didn't stutter. Even though I was blushing again, once I made up my mind that I wanted something, I was determined to get it. And the man's face changed from confused puppy to hungry wolf in an instant.

"Fuckin' hell, darlin'."

He caught my lips in another passionate kiss that made my toes curl inside my tennis shoes. I let out a small moan when he hitched up my leg around his waist and the hard bulge in his jeans ground against me. Too soon, he pulled back again, only to dip his head down so he could whisper in my ear.

"You're damn well gonna learn my name tonight."


	2. Don't Fucking Stop (MPOV)

"Logan!"

I didn't quite scream his name the way women did in the porn my roommate watched at all hours of the night, but it was pretty close. To be entirely fair to me, his mouth was between my legs while I laid on my back on top of Dr. Grey's desk. And did I mention …

His mouth.

Between.

My legs.

I'd heard of that. I knew it was a thing, obviously. But I'd never seriously considered it for my self before. First of all, that would require having a boy who not only liked me, but who would have sex with me. Second, I thought it might be kind of gross, having something wet and slippery like a tongue down there. And third—

I was wrong. This was the best thing ever. I was beginning to rethink my views on casual sex, on porn, on religion—I would go door to door like a Jehovah's Witness to spread the good word. Excuse me ma'am, do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior, Logan Howlett's tongue?

Luckily, what would have been a giggle got cut off and turned into a moan when he dragged the flat of his tongue over my clit. I thought him licking around the edges of my—well, let's say _entrance_, had been electrifying enough. But the tip of his tongue lightly flicking over my clit made me grip the sides of the desk and squeeze my eyes shut.

"Oh heck," I breathed.

His head popped up for him to smirk at me. "You can swear better than that, darlin'."

I wanted to thrash around and groan in frustration because. He. Stopped. It felt so good, nothing had the right to feel that good, no wonder pastors always preached against this sort of thing. I would 100% sell my soul to the devil right now if it would make him go back to what he was doing.

"All right," I said, propping myself up on my elbows to glare at him. "Don't fucking stop."

His expression changed to one of amazement, and I was able to confidently hold eye contact with him for all of 1.5 seconds before I blushed and backed down.

"Please?" I asked softly.

He yanked my left leg up over his shoulder and dove back in like a man on a mission. I couldn't stop an embarrassingly loud moan as his lips covered my clit again, and my head thunked back down against the table. I had a death grip on the edge of it, and the heel of my left foot dug into the space between his shoulder blades. I would have worried about whether or not that was uncomfortable for him, but I was way too close to coming for that to register in my mind.

Then he slipped a finger inside of me, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I'd tried that a few times before, but the angle of trying to get my own fingers in there made my wrist ache, and I could only get down to the second knuckle anyway. I had no idea how other girls actually managed to both finger themselves and touch their clit because I wasn't nearly coordinated enough for that.

But I was right about one thing—sex was awesome, and I had definitely been missing out.

"L-Logan!" I gasped.

He responded with a noise close to a growl, and the vibrations that sent through my clit made me come harder than I ever had in my life. For the first time, I had something inside of me during my orgasm, something to clench down on as I rode out wave after wave of pleasure. Just when I thought it couldn't last any longer, he added a second finger, and my body tried to arch off the table. Something pressed down on my stomach though to keep me still as I shuddered and bucked.

I'd always though having something inside of me while I came would just make it better. Like adding frosting to a cake. But my vagina was sending waves of pleasure throughout my whole body while my clit added it's own bolts of electricity. It was more like having two cakes, that is, two orgasms at once.

When I finally came down from the high and blinked my eyes open to stare at the ceiling, my throat felt raw.

"Jesus, darlin'."

I somehow found the energy to prop myself up on my elbows and look at Logan Howlett, sex god extraordinaire, as he stared at me with something close to awe.

"You always scream like that?" he asked.

My eyes went wide, and I swallowed hard. "D-did I? No, I never—the first time I—is that okay?"

He stood up and pulled me close so he could lean over me. "It was better than okay. Goddamn _best_, hearing you scream my name like that, Marie."

His use of my name made me blush even harder. He leaned down and kissed me with his hands on my bare hips, my pants and underwear already kicked off onto the floor. I melted into the kiss and allowed his tongue to sweep into my mouth. I didn't mind giving up control of the kiss to him at all, since it wasn't like I had any experience in making out anyway. He didn't seem to notice or mind though, and I dared to smooth my palms up and down his chest. It felt hard and warm, and I really wanted to get my hands on it for real, not just over his flannel shirt. I gripped the fabric and tugged.

"Off."

Wow, I did not mean for my voice to come off that whimper-y. But it accomplished my objective when Logan stepped back with a smirk and started undoing his buttons. I resisted the urge to fan myself like I was at a Mississippi church revival in July. I certainly felt the need to praise the Lord for what was standing in front of me. He got down to the second button, and I kept expecting to see the white of his undershirt at any moment, but by the third, I realized that one shirt was all he had on.

"Oh Jesus, this is like Clark Gabel all over again!" I blurted out.

He paused. "Yeah?"

"It was the first grown up movie I got to see, and only then because it was so old, my parents were sure there wouldn't be anything inappropriate in it. But then he took off his shirt, and there wasn't anything underneath, it was just firm hairy man chest, and he was my first real crush," I said all in a rush.

Logan looked so smug, his cheeks probably hurt from grinning so hard. "Well baby, I'm glad I can make all your dreams come true."

"You're not holding a tub of ice cream," I said. "Clark always had at least one tub of Fudge Choc—"

"I'll buy you ice cream later."

He dropped his shirt to the floor and stepped up to the desk again to kiss me before I could reply. I didn't realize there was going to be a _later_ in this scenario. I might not be the expert when it came to casual sex, but I was pretty sure the participants did the sex and then went their separate ways.

Not that I would mind spending _later_ with a nice, funny, handsome man who gave glorious orgasms with his tongue.

Said tongue brought me back to the present when it licked over my lips, which I eagerly parted. I ran my hands from his shoulders, down over his pecs, to his abs. I could literally feel each one of them. He must be half Clark Gabel and half Ryan Gosling because this glorious man had to be photoshopped. He even had the perfect amount of body hair, at least in my opinion, which tended to be too much for my girl friends. They were just weak. I loved body hair on a man. Mainly just because I thought it looked sexy, but now that I was getting real, hands-on experience, it was even better. His muscles were rock solid, but his hair was so soft, and the contrast had me touching every part of his bare skin I could reach.

And when he pulled back, I discovered an even better benefit to manly body hair—it gave me something to tug on. He groaned but didn't return to kissing me, so I yanked it again with a whine.

"Fuck, just lemme get my pants off," he muttered, hands fumbling at his fly.

I sat back a bit get a better view as I watched, and he finally managed to shove his jeans down to his thighs. His penis—no, that wasn't the right word for it. That drawing everyone sees in the anatomy textbook had a penis. He had something better than that.

Logan Howlett had a cock, and it was hard and long and thick and every other good adjective I could think of.

"Oh Hell," I whispered as I looked down at it.

"Moved up from heck, huh?"

I glanced up to see Logan's stupid smug face.

"You—you!" I stopped and pouted at him before admitting, "You have every right to be as arrogant as you are. Can I touch it?"

He blinked, and his expression went from smug to happy. Just pure happiness, like he thought _he_ was the lucky one right now. His eyes lit up and he had dimples on his chin, and it was like looking at the sun. I wanted to do anything I could to make him smile like that.

"You can do anything you want with it, Marie," he murmured.


	3. Sex and Run (MPOV)

Being a virgin who'd never even made out before, I'd obviously never seen a penis in real life, much less had the chance to touch one. So I grabbed this opportunity by the balls, so to speak.

And then I almost laughed out loud at that pun and ruined everything. Luckily, Logan's cock was distracting enough that I forgot all about bad jokes when I touched it. The skin was a lot warmer and softer than I expected it to be, and it moved with my hand when I gave the shaft a hesitant tug like I'd read about in the romance novels I bought by the stack. The foreskin around the tip of it bunched up, then pulled back down to reveal the head on the downward stroke. I didn't think handjobs were too difficult since it was just an up and down motion, and Logan seemed to be enjoying himself from the pleased rumble he made. It was just a strange sensation because it was so new.

And also, penises were weird. Logan had a very nice one and all, with enough hair at the bottom that it didn't look wrinkly and naked yet not so much hair that it looked like a forest, but it was still weird. Just … the whole concept of having this giant genital sticking outside of your body was strange to me since I'd never known anything except my own vagina, and apparently I hadn't even known that very well because Logan was so much better than me at giving me orgasms.

I got used to it pretty quick though, when I gave a firmer stroke and Logan dropped his head on my shoulder with a soft groan. That sound made me wish he was touching between my legs again because it was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard. And I'd been the one to make him do it. I wanted to wring out as many pleasure noises as I could from him, so I gripped a little bit tighter and moved my hand faster. He made a sound close to a growl and began to thrust his hips into my hand. I started to imagine that same motion inside of me and let out my own moan. If my orgasm had been that mind blowing with his fingers inside of me, how much better would it be with his entire cock?

"Darlin' … " he rasped out. "Marie-baby, stop."

I stopped with a confused whimper as he drew back. His cheeks were flushed beneath his stubble and his caramel eyes had turned almost black. He cleared his throat before he spoke again in a hushed whisper, like he was sharing a secret.

"Don't want this to be over before it starts."

I didn't understand for a moment before it hit me. He'd had to stop because otherwise he would have came. _I_ would have made him come. Me. I grinned before I could stop it.

"Then let's get this party started," I said. He raised an eyebrow at that, and I blushed. "First, forget I said that. Second, we still need a condom, so maybe—"

Logan pulled out his wallet. "I got one."

Actually, he had a strip of five. Who the hell carried around five condoms? Like, you know, just in case he accidentally stumbles upon an orgy or a gang bang situation where he's the one being banged and he needs a different condom for each girl. I kept my opinions on that to myself however, because to be fair, I was very grateful that he was obviously prepared and willing to have safe sex. No pull out method babies for me, thank you very much.

He put the condom on all by himself, which I was also thankful for since my only experience with that was one sex ed banana that suffered a tragic fate when I got a little frustrated. My bad. While he took care of that, I hopped off the desk, turned around, and bent over it. I'd heard that doggy style hurt less the first time, and it would put him in control, which I considered to be a good thing due to my obvious and utter lack of experience with anything sexual. I thought I'd done a pretty good job of keeping up with him so far, but I definitely didn't want the pressure of taking control for myself by being on top, the other recommended first time position.

I was a little worried about my hymen because everyone knew that barrier had to be broken and it hurt and there was blood. Or at least, that's what I thought until I got to college and was able to educate myself about my own body. Everyone in the southern conservative town I grew up in "knew" about the hymen, but like so many other things, that was all bullshit. If the hymen completely covered the vagina, there wouldn't be a way for anything to ever go in or out, like menstrual blood. So in actuality, the hymen typically had holes in it or one big hole, and it stretched just like the vagina did, so intercourse rarely broke the hymen. All that pain and blood was just from men having sex with women who were scared and unaroused, leading to tight, dry vaginas that weren't ready to have sex.

"Fuck baby, you want it bad, don't-cha?" Logan muttered behind me, drawing me out of my thoughts.

Not the reason I was going for doggy style, but not entirely untrue either, so I didn't correct him. He stepped behind me, the rough denim of his open jeans brushing against the backs of my bare thighs. I expected him to get straight to the point, but his big hands wrapped around my ribs over my shirt and smoothed down to my hips, then around my ass and up my back, this time under the fabric to keep his hands on my bare skin. I practically melted into a puddle onto the desk with a soft mewl. I'd never had anyone just touch me like that, somewhere between platonic and sexual. My frazzled brain spluttered out the word _intimate_.

"Logan … "

On the next long stroke across my skin, I sighed out his name, and he pressed his hips forward to rub his cock against my ass cheek. His hands stayed gentle though, and the action didn't seem scary at all. Almost all of my nerves had settled into pure relaxation with a thread of arousal thrumming through it. He leaned over me and kissed my shoulder, trailing his lips up to my neck, and then my ear.

"Ready?" he whispered.

I nodded with a quiet agreement, and his right hand left my hips. Then I felt something brush between my legs and press up against me. I spread my feet a little more and tried to arch my back so my ass would push up in the air, making the thrust in a little easier. This was purely for my own comfort, but Logan took that as encouragement and pushed inside me with another small rumbling noise from his chest that vibrated through my back. I focused on that over the feeling of being filled and stretched far more than what his fingers did to me.

It hurt a little, but in comparison to twisting my ankle wrong just twenty minutes ago, it wasn't that bad at all. More like strong discomfort than actual pain. Like when you try a bit harder than usual to touch your toes and it makes your calves ache. I tried to keep my breathing as steady as possible and pressed my cheek against the desk. It would feel good soon.

Well, actually, I didn't know that. It might be over in two minutes and never feel good at all. But between how helpful he had been all night and how gently he had touched me a few seconds ago, I trusted Logan to be considerate enough to make this good for me. If the rumors were true, he certainly had the skill and experience to make that happen.

His right arm slid beneath my torso and lifted me up just a half-inch more to get him fully seated inside me, and we both groaned at the feeling. He surprised me again by keeping his hips still after that and slowly rubbing my stomach with his hand beneath me. His other hand ran up and down my sides, and he stayed bent over me with his lips brushing against my neck. I felt like he was really holding me, keeping me warm and safe.

"Doin' all right?" he murmured.

"Yeah … "

I let out a slow breath and then pushed my hips back, rocking into him. He grunted, and his left hand stilled on my hip with a tight grip. The discomfort had faded to something manageable, and I didn't think it was going to get any better unless we got on with it. I still had high expectations for the quality of my next orgasm too, and I was eager to have it, so I wriggled again. Logan took the hint and pulled out slowly, but his thrust back in was a bit sharper. He paused for a moment after that though, as if he was giving me a chance to object. I didn't because I couldn't form words at the moment.

The movement of his cock inside of me had felt so much better than his fingers. And that thrust back in had shot a burst of pleasure through me that I had hoped for, but not fully anticipated. Unable to coherently ask for what I wanted, I whimpered and spread my legs as wide as they would go. I seemed to be speaking a language Logan understood, because he made another near-growling noise and started a pace of shallow but quick thrusts.

Then the hand that he had beneath me worked its way down, and his fingers rubbed against my clit. I went from biting my lip to crying out and actively trying to push back to meet his thrusts. That led to a couple of uncoordinated motions before our movements clicked, and I pushed my ass back just as he drove his cock in. He groaned, and I let out a moan that would have been embarrassingly loud if I hadn't been to far gone with pleasure to notice.

"Fuck, fuck, you're so perfect."

I whimpered at the praise as Logan's thrusts got harder. His fingers didn't let up on my clit either, and I could already feel warm pleasure radiating through me.

"Take my cock so good, darlin'," he breathed into my ear.

My hands scrabbled on the desk until I got my palms flat so I could have more leverage to push myself back into his thrusts. I wanted more and harder, and I may have been panting—begging—for that.

"Gonna be a good girl and come for me?"

I whined at his question, desperate to do exactly that.

"Y-yes sir, pl-plea—"

My answer was cut off by what almost sounded like a snarl from him. His chest pressed down into my back, pinning me to the desk so I couldn't do anything but take it as he pounded into me. I could feel myself on the edge of my orgasm, but I needed something else, a little bit more to tip me over. I cried out his name, begging him to give me what I needed. He responded by biting my neck, and I came so hard, my vision blacked out. The thought that he marked me, that he _wanted_ anyone who saw to know he'd fucked me, carried me even higher. He didn't even slow down, just kept fucking me through it as I writhed and moaned beneath him from my orgasm.

When he finally slowed down to a stop, my throat felt scratchy again, and I couldn't feel my ankle at all. In fact, I couldn't feel anything but bliss and maybe a little tired. His tongue lapped over the mark he'd left where my shoulder and neck met, and I hummed softly. This was definitely the best first time ever. His fingers brushed over my thatch of hair, then my belly button, and finally grabbed my hand in his. I thought the motion was another sweet act of intimacy until he guided my hand back down between my legs so my fingers could press against my sensitive clit.

"You're gonna hafta take over this from here, baby," he said.

I didn't understand what he meant until he straightened up behind me, the movement causing his hips to shift. Then I realized he was still hard, and we weren't done yet, and oh my god. I may have said the last part out loud because I heard him huff out a chuckle before he pulled out and slid back in. He went much deeper this time, and I couldn't hold back a moan or stop myself from rubbing over my slick flesh. I had actually felt his movement beneath my fingers, and I felt it again, my body stretching to fit his cock as he repeated the action. Both his hands were tight on my hips, and I could hear his unsteady breathing as he tried to go slow.

"C'mon," I whined. "Fuck me like you mean it."

"You asked for it, little girl," he replied in a low voice.

Then he yanked my hips back as he buried his cock back inside me, and I yelped with the shock of how damn good that felt. He didn't wait this time to give me a chance to adjust before he slammed in again, going so deep, I felt him nudge something inside of me. I made a noise that could only be described as wanton and let him manhandle my body as he fucked me hard. Every thrust pushed the back of my hand against the edge of the desk, and I'd probably have bruises on my knuckles in the morning, but it was worth it to jerk my fingers over my clit while he pumped his cock into me.

His hands controlled my hips, and I was once again powerless to do anything but take everything he gave to me. I almost sobbed with how good it felt, having his cock buried so deep inside of me with every hard thrust.

"Name … my name!" he growled behind me.

I understood what he wanted, and I cried out his name, turning it into an endless chant of _Logan_, _Logan_, _Logan_! He groaned and went even faster, and I was a shaking mess. I might have even been crying from how overwhelming it was to have a third orgasm building. I pressed my finger hard against my clit, trying to fuck myself the way he was fucking me. His groan had turned into a long series of moans, like he just couldn't hold back the desperate sounds, and that made me clench even tighter around him. I only needed a little bit more, but he was probably getting close to being through. His thrusts lost their rhythm and turned jerky, but one of them hit a spot inside of me that made me scream as my orgasm unexpectedly ripped through me.

Logan kept fucking me through both our orgasms, until I was whimpering with shocks of pleasure-pain every time he moved. He finally pulled out and let go of me then, and I slumped against the desk. Now I couldn't feel my ankle or my legs. At least the injury gave me a good excuse for why I would be walking funny tomorrow. I swallowed past my dry throat, and I heard a thump as he threw the used condom in the trashcan. Let Dr. Grey wonder about that.

I tried to force myself to straighten up, but strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me down. I ended up in Logan's lap while he sat in one of the guest chairs in front of the desk. His lips captured mine in a kiss before I could say anything, and we spent the next few minutes lazily making out and touching each other. I hadn't expected to get after-sex cuddling, but I was so glad I did. I didn't ever want to leave his arms.

_You call me firecracker … and alcohol's a factor!_

We both jumped in the chair, and Logan looked around with a confused expression.

"Sorry, sorry," I said. "That's my phone."

_I'm your go-go dancer, midnight answer—_

I stood up and wobbled my way over to where my skirt and pants were on the floor, bending over to sort through them to find my cell as the ringtone continued.

_Jukebox hero, queen of the niii-iiight!_

"Hey," I answered while trying to tug on my panties.

"Where the hell are you, chica?"

"Uh … " I slipped my cell between my neck and my shoulder so I could brace one hand against the desk and use the other to pull on my skirt. "Where are you, Jubes?"

"In the LA building. Which classroom are you in?"

I looked up and caught Logan's eye. He had a blank expression on and probably thought I was screwing and running. Which maybe I kind of was. I didn't know how these things worked. Should I try for cool sexy woman who has casual sex with major lumberjack hotties all the time and breeze my way out of here or would that be mean? Would asking for his number seem weird and clingy? I had no idea what he wanted out of this.

"Marie … Marie … Anna Marie!"

"Huh, what?" I refocused on Jubilee. "Sorry, I uh—"

"Just tell me what room. God."

"I'll meet you by the vending machines."

"Why—"

"Okay, bye."

I hung up the phone and made awkward eye contact with Logan again.

"You need help walking down there?" he asked softly.

"Yes," I admitted. "I'd um, really appreciate that."

He nodded and stood up, offering me his arm. At some point during my phone conversation and race to dress myself, he'd done up his pants and now looked totally presentable. Jubilee would probably be able to tell exactly what happened by looking at me though. I let him support me on my sprained ankle side and help me walk down the hall to the front area with all the vending machines. I was too nervous to say anything, and he didn't speak either.

"Marie!" Jubilee ran up to us, slowing down to give Logan a once over. "Did something happen? Are you all right? Where'd you find Hugh _lumberjack_-man?"

"I fell and sprained my ankle," I said. "This is um, Coach Howlett, who is very good at his job and also nice. He helped me."

I ended my explanation abruptly before I could babble anymore and gave Jubilee my most sincere look.

"Yeah, finals, three years running," she said. "I love you, man."

Logan cleared his throat and nodded.

"You ready to go, chica?" she asked me. "It's almost eight. Why were you even out here so late anyway? I swear, the things I do for you."

I tried to keep the shock off of my face when I realized we'd had sex for almost an entire hour and muttered something about getting distracted, which was technically true. Logan handed me off to Jubilee, who wrapped her arm around me and helped me walk like a good best friend. I felt bad about not really telling her the truth, but I had no idea what to do. Admitting to hooking up with a complete stranger was kind of embarrassing, and she'd probably open her big mouth and blab to him about me being a virgin too.

"Thank you," I said before we left. "For, everything."

Loan nodded again. "Sure thing, d—Marie."

Had he wanted to say darling? I liked being his darling. But I kept quiet as he turned around and walked away. Jubilee tugged at me, and I let her lead me out the door, ignoring her whispered questions about who he was and what really happened. When we got back to our dorm, I collapsed onto bed, wiggled out of my clothes, and curled up under the covers. I didn't even shower, which was maybe a little gross, but I put the blame for that on not wanting to stress my ankle. I was just about to fall asleep when I got a text message.

_hey. wanna get coffee tomorrow?_

I stared at the phone screen for a second before I slapped my hand over my mouth to stop a loud squeal of happiness.

_Logan? How did u get my #_

_I may have abused my power as a coach to look up ur contact information_

I grinned and had to take another break to just breathe while I tried to convince myself this was real. In the meantime, another text came through.

_I know im doing this backwards but if ur still interested id like to take you out on a date_

_Yes!_

I rethought how eager that sounded and backspaced to send a different text.

_sure. if u want_

_theres a starbucks in the uni center. 2:30 good?_

_great i'll see u then_

The covers were suddenly ripped off of me before Logan replied, and I looked up with a guilty expression to see Jubilee grinned maniacally down at me.

"I knew it!" she cried. "You have a date, don't you!"

My phone dinged in confirmation.


	4. Jean's Reaction (3POV)

**A/N: Just in case you missed the chapter title, this is a switch of POV to third person to show Jean's reaction to her office being violated. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Jean's hand fumbled behind her as Scott scraped his teeth over the side of her neck, making her shiver. He was never this aggressive when they made love. And they always made love. All the time. Missionary position. Eye contact. A good orgasm. Then go to sleep on separate sides of the bed. Good, but not great. Never anything fantastic or scream worthy. Just slightly above average, and Jean knew she was a terrible person for wanting more, but now she was finally getting it.<p>

The door swung open behind her, and Jean didn't have time to wonder why her office door hadn't been locked before Scott was pushing her back, crowding her up against the desk with his body. It seemed like she'd actually get what she wanted this time, but then his hungry look softened, and Jean had to suppress a groan.

"Is this—" he started to ask.

"Yes, Scott. God!" Jean interrupted. "Just fuck—"

The next thing she knew, Scott had turned her around and pushed her down on the desk. Not quite hard enough to warrant a _slammed_, but still enough to make another delicious shiver race through her.

"I will ask for your consent and you will clearly give it to me," Scott growled in her ear. "You are _not_ just some random fuck. You are my goddamn wife, and it's about time you start fucking acting like it."

Jean moaned and spread her legs in response. This was still the sweet, honorable man she fell in love with, but maybe now he would fuck her like he meant it. She tilted her head to the side and laid her cheek on the bare desk to give him access to her neck. It occurred to her for a brief moment that her desk was already conveniently cleared of papers and clutter for this impromptu romp.

Then Scott bit her. He really bit her, like an animal, and she echoed that by moaning like a bitch. Scott made a satisfied sound against her neck and licked over the mark he'd left. He never left hickeys before. Half because he was too shy and afraid of hurting her, and half because she'd always insisted it was improper. And it would be inappropriate for her to go to her next class covered with hickeys, but Jean couldn't be bothered to care at the moment. She didn't know when her eyes had fluttered shut, but she tried to force them back open. The room swam before her for a second before she just so happened to focus on the trashcan, her face smooshed against the desk at the perfect angle to see inside of it.

Scott must have felt her fear, because he drew back. "What's wrong? Do you not want—"

Jean knew the moment his eyes followed her gaze into the trashcan and he saw the Trojan Lubricated Magnum condom, used and tied off in the trash.

"That's his, isn't it."

He didn't even bother to make that a question. Jean started to protest, but Scott stepped back and walked out of her office without listening, without a word, without any hesitation. She slumped down to the floor. For once in her entire life, she could honestly say she hadn't fucked Logan Howlett, but this was the one time Scott wouldn't believe her. She didn't know why Logan had been in her office or who he'd fucked, but it didn't matter.

Jean was determined to destroy him, one way or another.


	5. Logan's Big Day (LPOV)

**A/N: Another POV switch, this time to Logan's POV. I'll stay with him for another few chapters, then switch back to Marie.**

* * *

><p>"Logan!"<p>

I scowled at the sound of Scott's voice, but I stopped anyway. He better not be after me to give me a lecture about violating Jean's office. She wasn't even the one I fucked in there this time, and he should have more respect for himself than to do her dirty work. I turned around, fully prepared to tell him to fuck off, and his fist caught me right across my jaw.

Which wasn't shit compared to what my asshole brother used to do to me. I wouldn't even put that at drill sergeant level. More like one of the other new recruits. That moron Duke maybe. Never had to learn to fight because his size ended most fights before they started. Lots of anger behind the punches, but no idea how to actually throw them.

Just like back then, I shook this one off and responded with an unimpressed glare.

"The fuck do you think you're doing, Scooter?"

"I—" Scott gaped at me for a second before he got his shit together. "You fucked my wife—again!"

"Scott—"

His voice didn't quite go into a childish whine, but it was damn close. "You said you wouldn't!"

I winced. Scott was the youngest faculty member by five years. He was a great professor, really smart with all that book stuff, probably some sort of protege for getting so far so young. Or maybe his success was just a side effect of his old man sweaters and values. The way he acted, no one would ever guess he was a day younger than 58. But sometimes his youth showed, and I felt real sorry for the kid, being genuinely in love with that heartless redheaded bitch and all.

"I didn't."

I looked around the campus, making sure we were alone. Luckily, it was at a time when there weren't any classes beginning or ending, and cold enough that there weren't any brats just hanging around. I still lowered my voice.

"I fucked one of the students in Jean's office," I said. "Not her. The location was just to piss her off."

Scott's face morphed from disbelieving to confused to doubtful sheepishness. "And the used condom?"

I shrugged. "I heard she was talking shit that we were still fucking. I wanted to make it real clear to her I have someone else I'm interested in."

"Wait, one of the students?" Scott immediately went into old man lecture mode. "Logan, that is entirely unprofessional and—"

"I checked her student ID, she's legal. I asked for consent several times. And she ain't _my _student," I said. "There anything else I should have done?"

Scott gave me a bitchy look. "Taken her home to a real bed perhaps? Or maybe just not fucking her in my wife's office."

"Deal with it."

His mouth worked like a fish as he spluttered with righteous fury.

"Like how I'm dealing with the fact that you sucker punched me in the face," I continued in a growl.

Scott shut his mouth and looked away. "Well," he muttered after a moment. "Regardless of whether or not you fucked Jean this time, you still deserved to be punched in the face at least once for all of this."

I grunted in reply.

"All right then, I'll … see you next week," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "Late for your boy scout meeting?"

"Well if I don't hurry, I won't be early, which, in my opinion, is in fact being—"

I turned around and walked away before I gave in to the ever present urge to pick the kid up and shake him. Rushing to be fucking early to an actual fucking boy scout meeting. He was probably the troop leader or some shit. His uniform probably had more badges on it than mine.

Fuck, that was some depressing shit to think about.

Once I was sure I was out of his sight, I rotated my jaw. It was an uncoordinated punch, and I bet his hand hurt worse than my face, but I could still feel a little bit of swelling and tenderness. I hoped it wasn't obvious enough that Marie could tell. I didn't want to show up to our first date looking like I just got out of a bar fight.

Goddamn, she was something special. Cutest baby girl I'd ever seen. I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable or anything, but I knew I would've kicked myself every day of my life if I didn't put an offer out there. Made sure she was legal first though, because although I might be willing to risk jail for that girl, she didn't need an old bastard like me messing around with her if her age still included the word "teen." Close to twenty-one sounded damn good though. Maybe she'd even let me take her out for her first official drink on her birthday.

A lone student walking down the same sidewalk in the opposite direction gave me a strange look and took a few extra steps out of their way to avoid me. I realized I was smiling like an idiot. I doubted anyone on campus had ever seen me smile. Grin after winning a game? Sure. And I smirked at anyone with a pair of tits. But the Wolverine didn't just _smile_ as he strolled along.

"Logan!"

That voice killed my smile real quick. I stopped and turned around again, fully prepared for another punch.

"The fuck do you want, Creed." I said, more of a snarl than a question.

Victor approached me with his hand half-raised, his ever present black leather duster snapping in the cold wind. I narrowed my eyes and had to fight down a literal growl in the back of my throat as he got closer.

"I just saw you walking along and thought I'd say hello to my little brother, that's all," he replied in a deceptively smooth voice.

"Bullshit," I spat out. "What are you doing here?"

His easy facade cracked a little as his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Considering I'm the new Humanities professor, I have every right to be here."

My jaw actually fell open. "_You're_ the—Humanities? You teach … what the fuck, Victor?"

"Turns out you don't have to have an inner sense of humanity to apply for the job," he said with a smirk.

I scowled. "But you do need degrees. At least a master's, right? When the hell did you get that?"

"I haven't just been sitting around with my thumb up my ass for the better part of half a decade."

"I heard you were in prison."

I bit down after that and resisted the urge to say something about what else might have been up his ass during that time. As much as I hated him, he was still my brother, and there'd been a time when he'd protected me from shit like that through all the foster homes.

He shrugged. "They have programs now to let inmates take some online classes. Stayed in a halfway house a while after that while I finished up the bachelor's, then got the master's. Lots of uh, state mandated therapy too."

I stared at him, trying to figure him out. I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised about him getting his master's. He'd adopted me and gotten me out of the system as soon as he hit eighteen. It'd been rough living on our own, and he had to work three jobs, but he somehow still managed to take night classes at the community college. When I wanted to join the army, he was all for it too, but he'd also insisted we use the GI bill to go to college. He was the only reason I had my half-assed associate's degree at all.

It sorta made sense. Victor's problem was that he always wanted more. More money. More power. More knowledge, too. I used my time at college to fuck and party, but he'd actually been serious about his academics. Straight A's every semester, even though he'd often play into people's expectations of him just being a big dumb animal. He was vicious and cunning like that, and I trusted him about as much as a toddler with a bucket of paint.

"They hired you with your felony record?" I finally asked.

"The dean is big on second chances," he said. "But I did get stuck with this fucking boy scout as my co-sponsor for the Medieval Society Club. Doesn't know shit about medieval history, but I guess even Xavier wasn't entirely comfortable with an ex-con being in charge of the second best armed club on campus without supervision."

"Is he about twenty-five, wears old man sweaters, always looks constipated?"

"Yeah. He won't let me anywhere near the catapult."

"You have access to a catapult?" I demanded.

Victor broke out a huge grin that showed off all his teeth and a maniac gleam in his eye. "Relaaax, little bro. I said I wasn't allowed to operate it."

"Jesus Christ."

There was a pause as neither of us said anything else. The silence got awkward, and Victor shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"So what are you doing here?" he asked me.

I blinked in surprise. Did he seriously not know? I thought he'd gotten the job here because I was here, and he wanted to piss me off or stalk me or try to ruin my life again. Knowing him, probably all of the above.

"I'm the head football coach," I said. "Are you trying to act like you didn't know? What, we both just so happened to get jobs at the same university?"

He gave another shrug. "I like New York. Real close to Canada, and this place isn't too far from New York City either. Only place that would hire me too."

"Well, uh … "

The awkward silence hit again. What the hell was I supposed to say to my older brother that I hadn't seen in—what had it been now? Seven years? Maybe closer to six. I tried not to think too hard about when we split up. Before that had just been a cesspool of death and following orders, doing the type of military shit that never officially happened and I really couldn't tell anyone about without killing them after. And the next year or so after was a haze of depression and alcoholism while I tried to adjust to civilian life again. All in all, I wasn't really sure of an exact dates during that time.

I sighed. "Don't fuck this up, Vic. I'm late. I'll … talk to you later."

Victor actually let me go with just a nod. The whole conversation, he hadn't even called me Jimmy. I hated that name and all the memories that came with it. I walked away as quickly as I could without looking like I was running away from my past. Because I wasn't doing that. Not at all. Three cheers for denial. I had almost gotten to the university center when another loud shout of my name stopped me. I groaned as I looked over and saw Jackie storming toward me.

I was going to be so late to my date with Marie. Shit, she might not even be there by the time I got to the Starbucks. I glanced at the building and assessed how far away from it I was, wondering if I should just ignore the crazy lady and make a break for it.

Taking my focus off of Jackie proved to be a very big mistake however, when she punched me in the chest. I instinctively shoved her away as I doubled over in pain and clutched my pec. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw her recover her balance within half a second and shift into an aggressive stance. She didn't attack me again though, so I straightened up and glared at her.

"Your ring caught me in the fucking nipple!" I shouted.

"Good!" She yelled right back at me. "You should be grateful I didn't punch you in your stupid dick."

"Why? Why would you do this to me! I'm already late for—"

"You fucked a little baby child," Jackie hissed at me.

Even though she'd said it lowly enough that only I could hear, I still looked around to check that there was no one else nearby. I could see a few students hanging out in the lobby of the building, but they couldn't hear us outside. I just hoped none of them had seen the Wolverine get punched in the tit.

"I did not," I growled back in an equally low voice. "I carded her first, she's almost twenty-one."

Jacquelyn was … complicated. One of the few women I knew personally but hadn't fucked, so we weren't and never had been a thing. I wouldn't exactly call her a friend either, although we'd run in the same circle for a time and looked out for each other. She worked on campus as a librarian on the fourth floor where only the nerdest of the nerds ventured, and she stripped at the local bar on the weekends. We'd met when I first moved here and did some cage fighting over there, but I'd eased up on that now since I had my football team.

One of the most important things to understand about her was that as a black queer woman, she was in a perpetual state of pissed off. She often went on rants about how shittily the world treated her and people like her, and I did have to admit that she usually had a point. The world was a fucked up place. But we were a little too similar to get along. We both always had to be the Alpha wherever we went, and we fucked and drank too much. Victor and I used to be the same way, but we had a camaraderie because of it. Jackie was closer to my competition than my comrade, and she loved one upping me.

"She's also a sweet virgin girl from a small religious town who's never even made out with a boy before," Jackie replied. "And now I hear you two fucked in Jean's office? I hate that bitch as much—"

She kept talking, but I wasn't listening. Marie had been a virgin? I leaned back against the wall as I felt the world tilt. Probably not a good idea to skip breakfast then, but the uni center had a couple of fast food places in it next to the Starbucks, and I'd planned to get a burger on my date with Marie, who was a virgin but not anymore because I took her virginity in revenge sex on a desk.

"Logan!"

I snapped back to the present and looked at Jackie.

"Hello? You in there?"

"She can't be a virgin, she wanted it from behind!" I blurted out. "Virgins don't ask for it doggy style."

"Actually, doggy style is a really good position for women having sex for the first time," Jackie said. "It hurts less than missionary, and she might have preferred it because it took the pressure off of her to do anything—and possibly 'mess up'— if you were in control."

"Holy shit … shit. Fucking—shitfuckfuckshit."

"You really didn't know then?"

"No, I wouldn't have—wait, how do _you_ know she was a virgin?" I asked.

She just gave me a look in reply. For someone who worked on the floor of a building that literally only got one patron a month and most students didn't even know existed, Jackie somehow managed to know everything about everyone on campus.

"Okay, I'll just … " I stopped and swiped a hand over my face. "I have a date with her and I'm late."

Jackie blinked at me. "You have a date? Since when the hell do you date?"

"Since I met the cutest, nicest, sexiest woman ever and accidentally took her virginity," I snapped back at her. "Don't get involved in this. I can fix it on my own."

She held up her hands in surrender, as if I was going to believe for one second she wasn't going to meddle in both our lives. I gave her my best glare and then stomped toward the entrance. She didn't try to follow in after me, and I made it to the Starbucks without incident. I swept my eyes across the nearly empty store until I spotted a small girl sitting in a corner in the back. She had her knees drawn up with one arm wrapped around them and the other hand idly stirring her coffee. She looked sad. My chest hurt worse than when Jackie punched me.

I didn't know how to fix this. Shit, I didn't know how to fucking … how was I supposed to apologize for accidentally taking her virginity and then being so late to our first date that she thought she was being stood up? There was a reason I didn't date. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. Aside from the actual fucking part, that is.

Maybe it would be better if I just walked away now. She'd be sad for a little while, but at least she wouldn't be involved with someone as old and messed up as me. She'd be better off without—

She sighed, and my feet moved toward her before I could stop myself. I just couldn't let her be sad. She looked up and saw me before I could force myself to turn around, and then I had to keep going. Her eyes focused on the lower half of my face, so my jaw must be noticeably puffed up a little. That was just fucking great. She stood up and her hand twitched as I got close, like she wanted to reach for me. Wolverine or not, my knees went a little wobbly at the thought of her pulling me close and touching me gently like she cared. I couldn't remember the last time someone had done that for me.

"What happened?" Marie asked. "Are you okay, sugah?"

The nickname paired with the worried, compassionate look in her eyes hit me worse than Scott's sucker punch. I swallowed hard and had to grip the back of the chair to stay anchored to something. So far today, I'd been punched in the face, confronted my brother face to face for the first time in seven years, and found out I might have taken advantage of a woman-girl far too good for me.

I wanted to tell her I was fine and everything was all right.

I wanted to tell her I couldn't do this.

I wanted to tell her how pretty she looked with her hair down.

Instead, what came out was, "You didn't tell me you were a virgin."

Her face paled.


	6. First Date (LPOV)

"You didn't ask."

Marie said that right back at me, her voice a little bit mumbled with embarrassment but no less sassy. This was the girl showing a hint of the woman who'd dared to order me _not to fucking stop_ when I was on my knees for her.

And she had been a virgin.

My head spun and my fingers flexed their grip on the back of the chair. If that was what she'd been like with no expectations or experience, just her own raw self, I couldn't wait to see the woman she'd become after a bit more learning. I wanted to be the one to guide her, to show her everything about herself, her body, her sexuality … and it didn't feel wrong, wanting that. I'd wanted to corrupt people before—that was what started that whole shit with Jean. But this was different. This feeling with her was almost protective, like I only wanted to do that for her to make sure she learned with someone who would keep her happy and safe.

Holy fucking shit, I was in so deep, and I'd probably spent a grand total of an hour with her.

"Is that a problem?"

Her chin lifted up and she made sure to look me straight in the eyes. But her downfall was that allowed me to clearly see the worry lurking in her own. Even though I'd fucked up yet again and started this conversation out by making her feel uncomfortable, she was going to throw it right back in my face with her head held high. She might be a little slip of a girl, but she wasn't taking any of my shit.

I shook my head. "No. I just, I feel like I fucked up."

She blinked, and her whole demeanor changed. "You do? Why? You were great!"

The enthusiasm in her voice broke the awkwardness of the moment, allowing me to give her an easy grin. She blushed and sat down with a pouty little huff that made my jeans far tighter than they had any right to be.

"Aw, screw it," she grumbled. "I'm sure you know by now about your … that."

She waved her hand in the direction of my crotch, and her blush reached the tip of her ears even as her little pink tongue darted out to touch the bottom of her lip. It didn't even seem seductive, necessarily, because seduction required forethought. That looked entirely unconscious, like pure instinct.

I quickly took a seat too. No need for her to see how goddamn great she was to be affecting me like this from all of a minute and a half of awkward conversation.

"I'm sorry I didn't make your first time special," I said, because I at least owed her that.

Her mouth dropped open. "What? No, you—what could be more special than hot revenge sex on a desk?"

When I was too stunned to answer, she forged on, despite the blush still flaming across her cheeks.

"On a bed with like, flowers and candles is something that we could—I mean, theoretically, we could do that anytime. Actually, since that's the typical first time, can it really even be called special if everyone does it that way? But last night was a once in a lifetime opportunity to wave a giant _screw you_ flag in front of Dr. Grey's face."

She lost steam toward the end of her rant, and her eyes dropped from meeting my own down to the table.

"And um … I just really think that was—three orgasms seemed pretty special to me."

I couldn't stop myself from grinning like, as Jackie would say, _a typical shit-eating male_. Goddamn right I gave her three orgasms.

"Well, maybe tomorrow afternoon I can take you out somewhere nice, just in case," I offered.

I had abso-fucking-lutely no clue where somewhere nice was or even if I owned clothing that would be acceptable to wear. The nicest place I'd ever been was Olive Garden, and I'd still been kindly asking to leave since Jean and I'd had a big blow out fight that ended with me shouting that maybe Scott would pay more attention to her if she deep throated his dick the way she was going at it with those breadsticks.

I wasn't welcome back at that Olive Garden, so that was already crossed off the list.

"I can't."

That brought me back to reality real fucking quick, and I refocused back on Marie's apologetic face.

"Well, probably not," she said. "My roommate just talked me into joining her yoga class, and I already signed up for it. But anytime after … um, I think five would be late enough, I'm free then. If you just wanted to do evening instead of afternoon. Or you know, whatever."

"I can do yoga," I said before I thought about the words I was saying.

Marie's eyes lit up. "You do yoga?"

"Uh, well," I started to backtrack. "I said I _can_ do yoga. I already work out six days a week, I'm sure I can handle a yoga class."

"I don't know," she said slowly. "I heard this class was pretty intense. I'm kind of nervous about it, honestly."

I chuckled. "Baby, you don't get biceps like these without being able to handle intense. And I'll look out for you. If you don't like it, we can go do something else."

"You'd really go to a yoga class with me?" she asked, her face all open and hopeful.

I had the sudden thought that if Victor ever heard about this, _I _would never hear the end of it. The Wolverine, at a yoga class. Whether he found out or not, I was going to get so much shit for this. But if it would make Marie happy … and since when the hell had I ever cared what other people thought anyway?

"Sure," I said.

How hard could a yoga class be anyway?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, I know this chapter is really short in comparison to the others I've been putting up, but my mother's side of the family is having our Christmas celebration at our house today, so this is all I had time for. At least it got everything set up for the next date. Logan at a yoga class. God, this is going to be brutal. Yoga is hard core and it will fuck you up. I only survive my classes by imagining how various characters would deal in that situation.**

**But I have a confession to make: I have no idea where I'm going with this. The yoga date yes, then maybe another smutty chapter, but I have no set ending in mind. Which means this just might go on forever, so I really need to get my shit together and figure something out. Suggestions would be much appreciated! **

**(Again, this fic will continue to update on Wednesdays.)**


	7. So Far Gone (LPOV)

I looked around the small fitness room while Marie happily chattered next to me. I'd never been in this room at the gym before because it didn't have weights in it, so I didn't care. Apparently this was the place for the yoga class though, and some other hippy young people exercise classes too, like whatever the hell zumba was.

"-friend Jubilee was supposed to be here, but she bailed to go on a date with Remy, so I guess it's just us," Marie said. "And whoever else takes this class."

"That one Cajun boy?" I asked. "Always talking about himself in third person, flirting with girls, saying random French words?"

Marie laughed at my description. "Yep, that's him. You two know each other?"

She laid down her mat on the floor, and I put down my borrowed-without-telling-anyone mat beside hers. I was the coach—if I couldn't commandeer a piece of gym equipment or two every now and then, what was the point? She sat down cross-legged like it was nothing, while I tried to get my own legs to cooperate. I had a brief sense of foreboding about the class ahead, but I forgot about that when I looked up and saw Marie waiting for my answer.

"Nah, we've never met," I said. "But half my team wants to kill him for sleeping with their girlfriends."

"All right class, listen up!"

Marie and I turned our attention to the front of the room with all the mirrors to see Jackie standing there and addressing the class.

"Jackie?" I looked her up and down. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"Well Wolvie, if you would _listen up_, then you'd hear me introduce myself to all the new arrivals as the instructor for this class," she answered before pitching her voice to address the entire room again. "My name is Jacquelyn, I go by Jackie. None of that professor or doctor or Mrs. Last Name stuff. Please raise your hand if you're new."

I didn't bother, but several people including Marie raised their hands. She was the only girl new to the class, while four guys stuck their hands up in the air with their eyes glued to Jackie. Her yoga pants were thin and tight enough that they might have just been leggings, and she wasn't wearing a bra beneath her tank top. It was obvious why men made up two-thirds of her class.

"Okay then," Jackie gave the students a nod and moved on. "Yoga is a great way to connect with yourself and with the earth. It's very spiritually grounding and a good way to relax. But this is not that class."

"Ain't this yoga?" I asked.

She grinned. "This is the Insanity Workout version of yoga, and it's about pushing your body to its limits, not some spiritual hippie shit. If you need to feel one with the universe, there's another yoga class that's taught in the ass crack of the morning at nine am by Hank McCoy. If you need to find yourself, talk to Emma Frost on the fourth floor of the uni center for therapy sessions."

Marie slowly raised her hand. I shot Jackie a look to be nice, or at least not as much of a bitch as she usually was.

"What exactly are the benefits of this class?" Marie asked.

"So glad you asked that," Jackie said, not even sounding sarcastic about it to my surprise. "If you're tired of being a useless lump of locked up muscle,"

Her sass came back full force though as she shot a pointed look at me.

"If you've ever dreamed of being flexible to fuck your way through the Kama Sutra," she continued. "Or if you want all the pain and physical exercise of a military boot camp—I don't know, some people have a kink for things like that—then this yoga class is the right one for you."

"I um, have a sprained ankle," Marie said. "I signed up for this class before it happened, so I can just go if you—"

"No, sweetie, it's fine," Jackie interrupted. "There are plenty of poses you can do without putting weight on your ankle, and I'll let you know ahead of time if there's something you can't do."

She continued to go on about other safety measures, how important it was to rest tomorrow and ice our muscles, because we were going to be sore and hurting in the morning, blah blah blah, scare tactics. I spent that lecture time watching Marie through the mirrors until I realized how much that made me look like a creepy old man staring at a little girl. It wasn't my fault she looked fucking edible. I remembered how sweet her pussy tasted too, but it was the memory of her sitting up and sassing me with that defiant pout on her kiss swollen lips that softened to a shy, hopeful _please _at the end that had me shifting on the mat. Shit, I could not think about that in these sweats.

I glanced around the room to make sure no one had noticed my attempt to readjust myself and saw that a couple of the other students were sitting with their legs stretched out in front of them. Since they were doing it, I figured I could get away with it too. I was a grown ass man, and I wasn't going to sit cross-legged like a middle schooler any longer than I had to. I stretched my legs out and leaned back to support myself on my palms. Marie looked over at me and quickly pressed her lips together to stop a smile. She sat with her back perfectly straight and her hands in her lap.

I struggled to sit up correctly. Once again, I was a grown ass man, and I couldn't fucking sit up straight. My back ached and I felt the pressing need to rest my weight on my hands again, but I'd be damned if I couldn't sit the fuck up. I straightened my spine the most I could just as Jackie announced we'd be doing our first pose. She stayed seated like I was—except with her back just fucking perfect—and spread her legs so much they just made a slight curve instead of a V. I managed to get my legs maybe two feet apart before they just stopped. It didn't even look like I was trying to stretch. Everyone probably thought I was just sitting normally and refusing to participate, but my leg muscles were straining.

"Little bit more, Logan," Jackie told me.

I ground my teeth together. "I can't."

"Oh, is that acceptable now? I can't? Okay, well the next time you tell one of your players to push themselves a little bit harder, I guess they'll just say _I can't_ and you'll all go home then."

I scowled at her and forced my legs wider. Instead of glaring back, Jackie's face softened a bit.

"You can ease up a little," she said. "Now you're pushing yourself too far to spite me."

I heard a snort from the back of the class and a mutter about how I was barely doing anything. I searched the faces in the mirror and spotted Bobby Drake. He'd been on my team his freshman year, but then he dropped out because he was a whiny little baby. I met his eyes, which widened and quickly dropped back down where they fucking belonged.

"Bobby, you're barely doing any better than him," Jackie called. "Everyone else not being a passive-aggressive, soggy piece of white bread—go until it aches, then go a little bit further. You should all feel very uncomfortable, maybe a little bit of borderline pain, but not a lot. Marie, you doing okay?"

Marie nodded, her legs spread nice and wide. "Yep."

"Don't worry about extending or flexing with your bad ankle, but point your toes on your good foot, like this. Same goes for the rest of you, make sure you extend your feet!"

I only half listened to what Jackie was saying because I'd gotten caught up in looking at Marie again. Her perfect posture pushed her little tits out, high and perky. Her eyes darted over to me, and she blushed when she saw me staring.

"I know this isn't any fun for you, but thanks for coming with me," she whispered.

I thought I was only doing this stupid class so I could _cum with her_ later on, but then she gave me a bright, grateful smile, and I remembered how much I wanted to make her happy whether I got laid out of it or not. Fucking shit, I was so far gone on this girl.

"Yeah, well, I'm better at getting women to spread their legs than doing the spreading myself," I grumbled. "This is probably just karma."

"You can do this, just breathe," Marie made pregnant woman breathing noises at me. "I'm sure it doesn't hurt that bad."

I shouldn't have been surprised at her sass, but her quick response caught me off guard. As soon as I'd mentioned getting other women to spread their legs, I expected some sort of jealous comment, not a sassy quip. When her eyes widened with doubt and she got a little furrow between her brow, I realized I'd let the silence linger a little too long.

"You did this to me," I replied.

Marie relaxed and grinned. "Do you need to hold my hand?"

"Ain't exactly the body part I've been hoping to get a hand on, darlin'."

I broke character and shot her a leer and a wink. Her cheeks turned bright red, although the eager grin still stayed on her face. Our moment was cut off though when Jackie groaned loudly from the front of the room.

"If you two are going to make lovebird eyes at each other, at least have the decency to sit in the back of the room where I can pretend not to see it," she said. "I don't fuck your players … well."

I curled my lip up as she had to stop and rephrase that.

"I don't fuck them in your locker roo—ooh, right. Uh … " Jackie stopped and thought about it again. "Okay, look, I don't do it while practice is in session."

I glared at her. "You fuck my players?"

She shrugged. "Remy and I have a bet. But we're moving on now, and please try to actually do the poses the rest of the class is doing instead of whispering to your girlfriend."

Marie's blush extended up to her ears, but she didn't say anything about Jackie's use of the word _girlfriend_, and I didn't correct it either. We avoided eye contact with one another like good little students as Jackie demonstrated the next stretching exercise by bending over and touching her forehead to the floor. I tried to lean forward, but the most I could accomplish was a slouch. Every time I tried to go farther, my knees raised up, and we were supposed to keep our legs stretched out.

Again, I looked like the only jackass in the room not trying at all when I was really doing the best I could. Maybe I was a useless lump of locked up muscle. Throughout the rest of the class, that was very clearly demonstrated to me. I couldn't do any of the stretching exercises, and apparently they were just the warmup for the actual yoga poses.

The bright side was that the first yoga pose we did was Downward Facing Dog, the one I'd been looking forward to all class. The harsh reality was that I sucked at it so bad, I didn't even get to look at Marie's ass once.

"Support yourself on your hands and the balls of your feet. Your body should be like a downwards facing V balancing on the ground. Marie, just try to put your weight on your arms and your good foot. You don't have to hold the pose as long."

I got myself into position and looked over at Marie, primarily to make sure she was okay. I didn't have to worry though, because she was doing a pretty good job at balancing herself even with only three limbs. Her hair was coming out of its ponytail, her face was flushed, and her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. My mind went straight to the gutter with that, and since her ankle wasn't hurting her any, my next concern was how to shuffle back far enough to get a good look at her ass.

"Logan!"

I raised my head and huffed at Jackie. "What?"

"Try to put your feet down," she said.

I had no idea what she was talking about, and balancing in this position used up more arm, leg, and core muscle than I expected. Not that I had any problems supporting my own weight, but I'd planned on today being my rest day, and this was starting to feel like a real workout. Jackie got up and came over to me, and I pushed down the instinctive part of my brain that insisted she was going to push me over while I was vulnerable. I was a civilian now and other people weren't out to get me.

"The goal is to have the bottoms of your feet fully touching the floor."

She pushed down on my lower back, and I tried to put my feet down. My leg muscles burned as I suddenly realized why this was a yoga pose. It didn't have jack shit to do with doggy style or sex appeal. It was seriously about stretching the muscles in the backs of your thighs and calves.

"You don't have to put your feet on the floor to do this stretch properly," Jackie addressed the class. "In fact, you don't have to perfectly mimic any of these poses. As long as your muscles are being stretched, you're doing it right. Feel the burn."

I fucking felt it. And it didn't ease up from there. The next pose we did involved lifting our left arm and right leg, trying to extend both of them out in a straight diagonal line while balancing on our two remaining limbs. I fell over twice. Then we switched which arm and leg we lifted and did it again. Marie got to sit out on that one because of her ankle, but I managed to make an idiot out of myself and fall over again.

That's pretty much how the rest of the class went. I could only do the bare minimum of the poses, my muscles burned like fire, and I fell over a lot. I only kept going because my pride didn't allow me to quit, and Marie occasionally looked over at me like she was so happy and proud that I tried, even though I looked like a moron.

Then, finally the class was over and dismissed. I lay on the mat, flat on my back, barely resisting the urge to groan in pain. Hell must be a week where each day alternated between a dentist appointment and a yoga class.

"Umph," Marie flopped down on the mat next to me. "I'm ready to go home, crawl in bed, and watch the hockey game."

I mustered the energy to turn my head and look at her. "You watch hockey?"

"Mm-hm."

"Why?"

"Because I like it," she said stiffly.

I quickly backed up. "I mean, uh, it's just that your accent sounds pretty southern. Didn't realize they had hockey down south."

Her expression relaxed and she smiled a little. "They don't. I actually didn't get into it until I moved up here to go to college. My College Algebra teacher offered five points extra credit if we attended a hockey game and took a picture of ourself with the scoreboard in the frame."

"And that got you into it?" I asked.

For some reason, her face turned red again and her eyes dropped to the mat.

"Well, I was um … I was on my period," she said. "So I was in a really bad mood, I got there late, I just wanted to take the picture and leave. But when I arrived, both teams had already gotten into this huge free for all fight. They were just absolutely beating the crap out of each other, and they all wore really tight pants, like reeeally tight, and everyone was screaming, and I got to scream really loudly too … "

She trailed off and gave a happy sigh.

"It was just a lot of violence and hot men, and I really appreciate those two things."

I laughed at how wistful she looked, but inside I felt like I'd just been sucker punched. A nice, funny, beautiful girl who also loved hockey. I hadn't done a damn thing to deserve this, and it had only been two days, but I was ready to take her home and keep her.

"You can come over to my place, and we can watch it together if you want," I said.

"Really? I—" she half-sat up and then stopped. "Okay, listen. I don't want to sound … it's just that, the thing is, when I watch hockey, I want to watch hockey. No talking, no groping, no blocking the TV."

I sat up next to her. "Darling, if you're offering to go home with me and watch the hockey game without talking or blocking the TV, I have no arguments against it."

Her whole face lit up with happiness. "Great! And maybe after supper we can renegotiate the no groping rule … ?"

Oh fuck yes, that sounded perfect. But then my brain caught up to my dick and heard the word _supper. _I usually ate on campus or ordered take out for lunch and dinner, and my breakfast consisted of energy bars and protein shakes, neither of which I thought Marie would appreciate.

"The renegotiation sounds good, but I have a confession to make too," I said. "I don't have much food at my house, so supper might be Chinese takeout."

Marie smiled indulgently. "I'm a good cook, I'm sure I can make something. What do you have?"

" … ketchup."

She looked at me for a moment before she burst out laughing so hard she had to lay back down on the mat. I gave a good natured huff and waited for her to laugh herself out.

"No offense," she stopped to giggle again before continuing. "But how do men even survive on their own? Like, ketchup? That's seriously all you have?"

"Hey, I also have raw eggs and protein shakes," I defended myself. "I just didn't think you'd be interested in that."

"Oh, but I'd be interested in ketchup?" she let out another laugh, then waved her hand at me in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just imagining … oh my god, if you just, like, gave me a bowl of ketchup for dinner. I fixed supper tonight honey, here you go."

She went back to cackling, and I rolled my eyes. Good thing she was so goddamn cute when she rolled around on the floor laughing like that or I might have been offended. She calmed down after a minute and apologized again once she'd collected herself.

"Okay, how about this," she said. "We run by a grocery store really quick, you buy the ingredients, and I'll cook you up a pot roast. If we leave now, I'll have time to put it together and get it in the oven before the game starts, and it should be done by the time the game finishes."

I stared at the goddess of a woman before me. She liked doggy style sex, watched hockey, and could cook a goddamn pot roast.

"Logan? Does that sound—"

I scooped her up and stood with her in my arms. "Sounds fucking perfect, baby."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The next chapter will be the after game sexy times (any requests for that?) and then some fluff. Maybe a phone call from Victor. There has to be a plot at some point, right?**

**Maybe?**


	8. Home Sweet Home (MPOV)

**A/N: POV switch back to Marie for the next few chapters, btw.**

* * *

><p>"How about we make this interesting?" I asked.<p>

Logan looked down at me and raised his eyebrow. He lay on the couch between me and the back of it, while I lay half-beside and half on top of him. I had to twist my head to look up at him, but that wasn't too uncomfortable, and we each had a clear view of the hockey game on his TV. I gathered up my courage and continued.

"Since neither of us have any particular loyalties to the teams playing, I'll choose one and you get the other. If my team wins, I get to decide what we do tonight. If your team wins, you're in charge."

Logan's voice was deep and filled with promise when he answered. "You sure you want to make that bet, darlin'?"

I shrugged and tried to look unaffected. "If I'm on the winning side, I get to do whatever I want with you and … I may have a few ideas. Even if I lose, I get to see what you're interested in. So it seems like a win-win situation for both of us either way."

He'd let out a chuckle at that, and I thought he might have even looked a little impressed. But from then on, it was serious competition. We both stayed playful enough about it that no feelings got hurt, but each of us also wanted to win.

Unfortunately for Logan, my team pulled through, and he was a losing loser pants. He gave me another quirked eyebrow at that brilliant insult, but the oven timer interrupted our extremely witty banter. We didn't talk much at dinner, too busy eating and thinking about what was going to happen. My pot roast seemed to be a big hit with Logan though, if his moans of appreciation and half-starved eating were anything to go by. But they were nothing compared to how much he seemed to like the pecan pie. He ate three slices, and I was pretty sure his moans were deliberate that time, which he confirmed with steady eye contact and deliberately suggestive licks of the sugary filling.

After we finished eating, he surprised me by helping me wash the dishes and put them away. He might have only suggested doing the dishes to drive up the suspense, but he didn't have to help me, and every woman appreciates a man who will do dishes.

"So what do you have in mind?" Logan asked, midway through washing the plate he'd used.

His question caught me off guard, and I almost dropped my plate. I didn't think we'd be discussing this until after we'd cleaned up our few dishes. I recovered my composure as quickly as I could manage while stacking the plate with the others in the drawer he'd shown me.

"Well," I paused and thought about how to word my request, then decided to just go for it. "You can start by fulfilling your pecan promise."

"Sure thing, darling," he replied with an amused grin. "But that's what I'm calling it from now on," his eyes dropped down to my crotch, then up to my face again to give me a dirty wink. "Pecan promise."

I blushed. "You're a bad, bad man."

Logan didn't both with a retort, just pulled me closer with soapy hands and kissed me. I didn't mind the wet handprints he left on the ass of my jeans since I was hoping to stay over tonight anyway, so I kissed him back for a minute before pulling away.

"Also, I want to ride your dick."

His eyes widened, and I realized I probably should have done that differently, like whispered it seductively into his ear instead of just blurting it out there. I swallowed hard with nervousness, but I held his eyes and didn't back down. I'd won, so I got to have my way with him tonight, and that's what I wanted.

"Well I guess we'd better finish this up then," he said, eyes dark with promise.

I gulped again for an entire different reason, and we finished the dishes two minutes later. The only problem was that I had no idea where his bedroom was. His house was small, simple, and sturdy. He had some magazines on the coffee table, and they looked like they'd been read and dropped there instead of spread out for decoration. In fact, there wasn't really any kind of home décor at all, and I couldn't imagine Logan at Gordman's or Pier 1 anyway.

Well, technically I could, but in the sort of absurd fantasy meant for 3am giggles, not in a real life scenario that would ever happen. Everything in his house had a function, right down to the one well used black throw pillow on his couch. It looked like he'd decided he needed some support under his back when he laid down, went to a home décor store, marched straight to the throw pillow section without looking at anything else, grabbed the simplest black pillow he could find, and then hauled ass back out of there.

Logan's fingers interlinking with mine brought me out of my thoughts, and I followed his quiet command of "c'mon," letting him lead me through a hallway and into his bedroom. I expected it to be just as sparse and utilitarian as the rest of his house, but I was surprised to see several shelves lining the walls with photos, knick knacks, and even a few paperback books. The rest of his house looked lived in, but this was the first room I'd seen that showed signs of personality.

It was humbling to be allowed into such an intimate space, especially when he'd agreed to allow me to be in charge tonight. I paused at the bed in particular. Did I just crawl in? Should I wait for him to get on it first? Was there any sexy way for me to get on his bed without just flopping down on it?

Luckily for me, Logan solved my dilemma by picking me up and laying me down on top of the covers before I registered what was happening. I let out a rush of air and gaped up at him as he leaned over me, looking more than a little smug. I wanted to be irritated, but I enjoyed being manhandled a little more than I probably should.

"So, mouth first or dick?" Logan asked, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement.

"Mouth," I answered in what I hoped was a steady voice.

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, so I'm trash. I'm also sick with a cold, and I still went into work today to move boxes. Please feel sorry for me and forgive this super short update that doesn't even have any smut in it! I'm trying to work and prepare for spring semester starting this Monday, and my writing has kind of taken a back seat to real life responsibilities. I do have a drabble pre-written for Love Me Do, so I can promise that it will update on time at least. And I'll try to use the week between now and next Wednesday to get a really long smutty chapter finished for this fic!**


	9. Literally Just Smut (MPOV)

I was a little worried that the anticipation wouldn't live up to the experience. Maybe I'd been so impressed that Logan gave me an orgasm with only his mouth that I built it up into this awe inspiring, rethink religion, swoon-at-his-feet experience in my mind when I should realistically be expecting it to be pretty good.

But his mouth did not disappoint. It took him less than two minutes to have me naked and moaning while he licked his way between my legs. I might have gotten a little too overenthusiastic and grabbed his hair so I could hold him still while I rolled my hips against his face, but it made his stubble rub against my sensitive entrance while his tongue lapped at my clit. He didn't seem to mind either, and the combined stimulation had me screaming his name when I came.

The next time I opened my eyes for a fuzzy view of the ceiling, I felt Logan crawled back up the bed to lay next to me, propped up on his elbows. I found the inner strength to turn my head to look at him, despite how boneless I felt. He smirked down at me and made a show of licking his lips.

"I kept my pecan promise, and I gotta say babe, your pie tastes damn good," he told me with a dirty grin.

"Logan!" I gasped, unable to stop myself or the blush heating up my cheeks. "You—you … "

I paused and stopped myself because I really didn't have any room to talk, considering how I wanted the night to go.

"I what?" Logan asked.

"I was going to call you a dirty pervert," I said. "But then I realized that might be a bit hypocritical of me because, well, um … I have a request about what I want you to do next. Uh, specifically."

Both his eyebrows shot up. "Yeah? Thought you wanted to ride me."

I nodded and tried to fight down my blush. "Yes, but um," I took a deep breath and just went for it. "Right before I come I want you to flip us over and fuck me through my orgasm."

"I can do that," he said in a low voice, reaching for me.

I grabbed his hand and held it still. "I'm not done. After I come like that, once you're ready to you know, come, I want you to do that doggy style. To um, take me doggy style while you … uhh … "

Logan caught off my stammering by covering my body with his and kissing me deeply. Right before our lips connected, I thought I heard him mutter something along the lines of _so fucking lucky. _His tongue swept back into my mouth, and my face burned even brighter when I realized I could taste myself. The last time, everything had been such a whirlwind that I hadn't noticed, had never even thought about the possibility. The new experience distracted me enough that I forgot about Logan's other hand until one of his fingers pushed inside of me. I wanted a different body part of his however.

"Want it now," I said, almost in a whine.

He had the balls to nip my shoulder and reply, "Hush."

I started to make flustered, irritated protests, but he slipped another finger inside me, the almost-but-not-quite-filled sensation making me gasp.

"You'll get what you want," he promised me.

"I'd better," I huffed. "Or I will … "

I trailed off as he spread his fingers apart, the stretch making the heat between my legs a little more bearable, but it still wasn't enough.

His breath ghosted across the shell of my ear. "Or you'll what?"

"I'll—I'll flip you over and take it."

God, I hoped that didn't sound as shaky and uncertain to him as it did to me. It must have, because he chuckled into the crook of my neck, the rhythm of his fingers not faltering for a single moment. They made it damn difficult to concentrate, but the arrogant nature of his male laughter shot enough fire through my body for me to focus.

"How're you gonna do that, _babe_?"

His voice was teasing, friendly instead of mocking, but he'd just tapped into my competitive streak. I didn't want to lose this game we were playing. Not that I minded letting him lead, I might even prefer that, but this was supposed to be my night. I already felt young and inexperienced, but I wanted to show him that I could still keep up.

Plus, he seemed to have forgotten that I had hands too, so I slipped my hand down and grabbed his cock. Maybe if he hadn't kept his tone so light I would've gone for his balls, but I honestly just felt like I had something to prove, not that I was full on angry with him.

"I have my ways to convince you," I whispered in response and gave his cock a firm tug, the way he had liked it the last time.

I was just guessing, trying to imitate the way I thought a "sexy" woman would act, and I really hoped it would work. After a brief pause in which I held my breath waiting for Logan's answer, he made a noise into my skin so small that I wondered if it was unintentional. If he hadn't meant to groan at all—if _I_ had managed to wring it out of him.

"Getting weak kneed already," he quipped, then placed a soft kiss against my cheek. "Promise it'll be soon … bossy little girl."

He used the same trick again to distract me, a dizzying kiss as he pushed in a third finger. That came the closest to satisfying me, but I remembered his cock being warm and long inside me, reaching places I'd never discovered on my own. His thumb came up to rub my clit in tight circles, just a little to slow to let me go over the edge. I felt right up next to it, though. He made it worse too, when he dipped his head and mouthed over my collarbone, down my chest, to take one of my nipples into his mouth. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as his tongue flicked and laved, and his fingers kept pushing into me, just hard enough to make me _want_.

"Pleeease? Lo, puh-please!"

I hadn't realized begging was an option, but apparently it was. From the punched out groan Logan made, it was more effective than I would've thought. He propped himself up, his mouth regrettably leaving my nipple at the same time he pulled his fingers out. But I forgave him for both of those crimes when he reached down and lined himself up, and I felt the head of his cock brush against my entrance.

"Fuck," he growled, shifting back.

I gaped at him in confusion and more than a little outrage. I didn't understand why he stopped until he flipped us over, his hands gripping my waist to keep me steady despite the sudden manhandling. His cock brushed over the inside of my thigh as I had to spread my legs to straddle him, and I remembered that _oh yeah_, I was supposed to be on top. I blushed again at having completely forgotten that requirement, but I recovered quickly when I realized I had his cock all to myself.

This time I reached between us and guided him toward my center. I had a flash of insecurity that I might look stupid, squatting over him, hunched over to look down and fumbling in between, but then we lined up perfectly, a happy rumble of approval bubbling up out of Logan's chest as I began to sink down. Even in comparison to three of his fingers, the stretch was a lot to handle, and I had to admit I was pretty grateful he'd been considerate enough to open me up first. But I was a little too far gone on finally getting him inside me to verbalize that thought, and the only sound that came out when I sat all the way down was a long moan. I reached out, grabbing at his chest for something to hold onto and anchor me. My fingers curled tight around his chest hair, and the rumbling noise turned into a low growl. My hips twitched in response, rocking myself on top of him.

"That's it, baby girl," Logan encouraged me, the deep rasp of his voice sending another shiver through me. "Take what you need, darlin'."

His encouragement was more than enough permission for me, and I started grinding down on him, rolling my hips to try to find the best angle. His hands flexed on my waist, but he stayed still for me and didn't try to guide me, patient enough to allow me to figure out what I liked all by myself.

That's what I was here for. I hadn't gone out on many dates, but I'd been hit on by a fair enough number of guys, and it wouldn't have been too difficult for me to find a casual hookup if I had wanted it. But even if the sex was casual—or whatever this had turned into with Logan—I still wanted someone who cared about me. Logan started taking care of me the first moment we met, from fixing up my ankle to making sure my first time was safe and didn't hurt. It seemed strange considering we still hadn't known each other for even a week, but I trusted him.

I might even like him. Really, really _like _him. Admittedly, I liked his cock a lot too, and that's what I was thinking about the most as I tested out a rhythm, but some part of me still registered how kind he was being by letting me have this.

Then I lifted myself almost all the way off him and sat back down, and all conscious thought skittered away. There wasn't much force behind the motion, I was mostly just letting gravity do the work for me, but the friction was incredible. I repeated the action again, a little bit harder coming down. Logan grunted and his hands flexed again, but he didn't move. I managed to start up a rhythm at the angle I wanted, and my head tipped back with the pleasure. His low groans assured me he was enjoying it too, so I focused on myself.

Except I realized a few moments later that I couldn't do this by myself. My thighs were already starting to burn after only a minute, and I couldn't get my thrusts hard enough, the pleasure I wanted tantalizing out of reach.

"Logan … ?" I asked in a pleading gasp.

He stared up at me, eyes dark and wild. "I gotcha."

His big hands lifted me, almost all the way off his cock, before yanking me back down. I gasped again, twisting my hands in his chest hair hard enough to hurt. He gave a low growl, and I tried to tell my fists to unclench, but he kept guiding my hips like he didn't care. I could feel my orgasm building and each of my exhales were breathy moans.

"Touch yourself," Logan demanded in a voice as rough as sandpaper.

With his order in mind, I managed to let go of his chest hair with one hand and shakily move it to where we were joined. His hands had stopped moving me, but he rocked up into me even as I stayed still. I brushed my fingers over where my entrance was stretched wide to accommodate his thick cock, and he made that deep growling noise again. I shivered and clenched around him at the sound, and he rolled his hips a little sharper. I trailed my fingers up a little higher and rubbed over my clit while he watched. His eyes were almost black with pleasure, and he still had my cum rubbed across his lips and the stubble on his chin. He lifted me up, and I prepared for the satisfaction of being yanked back down onto his cock, but I didn't expect him to drive his hips up at the same time.

"Fffu—uuuh … " I moaned, the curse getting lost in the haze of my quickly approaching orgasm.

Logan raised me up. "Say it."

I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a moan loud enough to border on a scream when he slammed me down again with a simultaneous upwards snap of his hips. The twin motions drove his cock as deep into me as when he'd fucked me over the desk, and I could hardly think past how goddamn good it felt.

"M'rie … " he groaned.

"Fuuu—" I swallowed past my dry throat. "Fuck!"

Logan snarled and fucked up into me even harder, until I was so close to the edge, I could barely hold on.

"Fuck me!" I managed to plead with him. "Lo, fuck m—"

The room spun around me and my back hit the mattress. Logan's weight pressed down on top of me as he pistoned his hips and hit that sweet spot inside of me with every thrust. My vision blacked out and he fucked me through my orgasm, but as soon as I stopped clenching around him, he pulled out. I wanted to whine at the loss, but I didn't have a chance because the next moment he roughly turned me over. His hands were clumsy and his movements desperate, and when he slid back inside of me he gave a relieved groan like it had hurt him to not be inside me those few seconds. His arousal caused a new spike in my own, at the thought that he wanted me so badly, that he _needed_ me.

"M'rie," he mumbled against my shoulder, his chest draped over my back. "Fuck, darlin', you need … ?"

I couldn't answer in words at that point, so I just whined and spread my legs wider. His thrusts didn't have much of a rhythm anymore, but he kept pushing into me like he just couldn't help himself. He used his head to nudge mine to the side, leaving my neck bare to him and his lips right next to my ear.

"Come," he growled. "Come f'me, Marie."

Then he bit down hard on my shoulder. His teeth loosely covered the same mark where he'd bitten me before, and I never knew I had a kink for being bitten, but apparently did because I came with another muffled scream into the pillow pressed against my face. Logan made an absolutely wrecked groan above me, his hands holding me still so he could push as deep inside of me as he could get and rock his hips in stuttered little jerks as he came.

I felt like maybe I had actually passed out for a second from the force of my orgasm because the next thing I was aware of, we were both laying on our sides and Logan had his arms wrapped firmly around me. His lips brushed over the bruise his teeth had made, but it sent out both small sparks of pain and pleasure. I liked having his mark on me more than I probably should. He licked it gently and placed a light kiss to the side of my neck. I let out a contented sigh. I'd just had mind-blowing sex again, and now we were cuddling. I was warm and safe in his arms, and I'd hoped to get to spend the night, which looked very probable right now because I was falling asleep.

"Sleep," Logan said, confirming what I thought. "I gotcha."

My mind sent out the fuzzy thought that he did have me, more than anyone else I'd ever known, and then I fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So how's that for smut? And also witty banter? I am so goddamn proud of that "your pie tastes good" line. I didn't even plan it when I had them start referring to oral as "pecan promise" in the last chapter, it just worked out like it was fate all along.**

**For the next chapter, I have lots of fluff and comedy in mind! Logan decides he needs shelves in his garage and Marie wants to spend more time with him, which leads to them deciding they can just assemble the IKEA shelves together because how bad could that be, right?**


	10. IKEA Can Suck It (MPOV)

Logan's garage had more personality than his whole house. It had workbenches covered in tools and half-finished projects. A gorgeous wooden chair sat in the corner. He'd gruffly said it wasn't finished. I'd been too amazed at the implication that he'd made it to ask any more questions. The crown jewel in the center was a motorcycle. It looked beautiful and powerful enough that it made me want to know more about motorcycles just so I could accurately describe it. I was sure it was "powerful" and had "horse power" or whatever, but I had no real idea. I just knew that while I volunteered to help Logan build shelves, one way or another, we were going to do something sexual on or near that beautiful piece of machinery.

"Gimme some more screws."

I sat on a small cleared section of a workbench with my feet dangling above the ground while Logan actually assembled the shelves. I was in charge of handing him things, which was A-OK with me. But the small bag of screws that had come in the box with the shelves was empty.

"One sec," I said.

I hopped off the table and searched through the box. There was a lot of packing stuff, but no more bags of screws and those round things that got put on the end of them.

"Uh, we're out."

"The fuck d'ya mean we're out?" Logan grumbled.

I held the empty bag away from him when he reached for it. He stared at me like he couldn't believe I'd just done that.

"Don't swear at me," I told him, trying to pitch my voice as both calm and firm. "I know you've had a long day sugar, but I don't appreciate it when men swear at me."

He relaxed and his eyes softened as he nodded. I handed over the bag, but he took my wrist instead and pulled me close. He kissed my temple, and I relaxed into his arms. That worked for an apology for me as long as he didn't swear at me again. And I might be biased about it anyway, growing up in an unhealthy environment where the men swore and yelled at the women and the poor stupid women scurried to obey. I just wanted to make sure this never evolved to that from the get go because while we'd never talked about it, the age difference and his experience put him at an advantage over me.

"Where are the direction?" Logan asked after a moment.

I pulled out of his arms and grabbed the folded up sheet off the table. We worked together to get it unfolded to the size of the table itself and spread it out. Logan examined it, muttering to himself. I went back to check the box again to make sure I hadn't missed anything in the packing fluff. I did find another bag, and I held it up in triumph before I realized the metal pieces inside weren't screws at all.

"What are these?" I showed them to Logan. "I found them in the box, but still no screws."

He took the bag and glared at it. I leaned against the edge of the table as he poured over the directions, trying to figure out what these new metal pieces were.

"Can I swear at the directions?" He finally asked. "'Cause this is some fucking bullshit."

"Well, I don't think that part you're looking at is English," I said.

He nodded distractedly. "It's Japanese. Not very clear. Shit, Victor could read this French."

"How many languages do you speak?"

He shrugged. "Some."

Well that was amazingly vague. But I didn't want to press too hard while he was stressed, so I let it drop. Now that I knew he could speak more than one language, we were definitely having some sort of sex on that motorcycle. I'd never had a very pressing sex drive before we started dating, but now that I knew what a g-spot stimulated orgasm felt like, I wanted one every day.

Logan let out a low growling noise, dragging me out of my thoughts.

"These aren't in the directions."

"Do you have any idea what they're supposed to be?" I asked.

"Yeah, darlin'. They're shelf holders," he explained. "You put these little hook looking things through the holes in the beams—"

He pointed over to the long pole things. They were straight up and down but bent lengthwise so they had a short edge and a slightly longer edge.

"—and then the shelves rest on this flat part. But the directions had me using screws. These shelf holders aren't in the directions at all."

"Okay, I think this is a one time only thing, never again to be applied to any other man or situation," I began. "But you sound like you know better than the directions. I vote you just do what makes sense to you, because I don't think these directions even match these shelves."

Logan smiled at me a little and considered the shelves. I didn't have anything else to do today, so I was fine with hanging around and helping out as long as he didn't get tired of me. In the end, Logan decided to go with his gut. He laid out two poles parallel to each other with a few feet in between and told me to put the shelf holders into the holes. I got to work on that while he put shelf holders on two more poles that would hold the other ends of the shelves. After we both finished, I watched him screw on a side brace that connected the two poles and then did the same on mine while he got everything else together. But when he walked over to check my work, I could see on his face that I'd done something wrong.

"What is it?" I asked.

"See how the beams have a long and short edge?" he nudged the pole with the toe of his boot. "The long edge needs to be on the floor with the short edge sticking up perpendicular."

"Mine is … " I looked at it glumly. "Backwards."

"Yep."

I sighed as I thought about how I would have to redo everything I'd just done. Logan crouched down next to me and wrapped his arm around me.

"I messed up," I mumbled, leaning into him.

"Yeah, but you found the shelf holders," he said. "And you can fix it. It's not a big deal."

I tilted my head up, and he obliged my unspoken need for a comfort kiss. He kept it short though, and I was reminded that the afternoon was already dragging on and we hadn't even finished one shelf yet.

"You know what to do to fix it?" he asked me.

I nodded. "Take all the shelf holders off and the side braces. Turn the beams the right way. Put those back on again."

"All right."

He stood up and went off to busy himself doing something else. I didn't mind redoing everything on my own because I'd been the one to mess it up in the first place. I'd rather him explain what I'd done wrong and how to fix it then yell at me or make me feel bad. I liked knowing exactly what I needed to do as amends and he didn't even ask for an apology. It took me about twenty minutes to redo everything. Once I finished, Logan and I both stood up our two beams and he held them apart while I set a shelf between them.

I eyed it skeptically. "This doesn't look stable."

"You gotta hammer 'em into place," Logan replied. "You can grab that mallet over there."

I ran over and got it off of one of his many workbenches. Logan had been great about my mess up, but I was still pretty frustrated with myself, and the opportunity to hammer something sounded fun. I slammed the mallet against the metal shelf, and it sunk down a few inches. I looked at Logan to make sure I hadn't just seriously damaged something. He nodded with a grin, and I happily went back to banging down the corners into place.

"You keep these balanced, and I'll carry over the shelves," Logan said.

I hummed out an agreement and waited while he got one of the shelves. What we'd set up so far couldn't really balance on its own, but it was stable enough that holding it up wasn't difficult. Logan brought over the shelf and set it into place, then handed me the mallet. I got to hammer in the shelf again, and we stuck with that pattern. We put in shelves at the bottom and worked our way up. As the shelves got higher, Logan had to pick them up and lift them. I was quietly grateful I got the easiest jobs. The shelves weren't that heavy, but the motion was repetitive and would have killed my arms. After we got all the shelves in, the final step was to make sure everything was level and put the back braces on.

All in all, it took us an hour and a half to put together one shelf. But after that, once we knew what we were doing, we put together three more shelves in an hour. I felt kind of tired by the end of it, but triumphant too.

"Hey, Logan?" I started out in a sweet voice.

His face twitched a little in an aborted grimace. I blinked, and I could feel my own face fall.

"I just don't feel like going out today, babe," he said. "It's a Sunday afternoon, nothing's going to be open anyway."

"Well actually, I was thinking more along the lines of staying in and a victory blowjob," I replied.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Among other things."

He approached me slowly, still looking a bit skeptical. "I can satisfy those other things darlin', but are you sure you aren't tired?"

"I like your motorcycle," I blurted out.

"Yeah?" Logan's expression turned to smug male amusement. "That why you said you'd help me? You just want me for my sweet ride."

I snorted with laughter. "And how nice you are, your big muscles, because you speak more than one language, your facial hair, that you take care of me, and the million other reasons that I … "

Love you. Oh dear God, I was in love with him. The thought didn't even sound all that crazy because who wouldn't fall in love with Logan Howlett? And I was just a little girl, one among a hundred others. Sure, I was young and innocent, and that might appeal to him. I even got the feeling that Logan really did like me, but there was a world of difference between enjoying the fun we were having and wanting to settle down in a steady monogamous relationship leading to marriage. We'd never said anything about if we were monogamous or even in a relationship at all. If I had to introduce him to someone right now, I wouldn't dare to call him my boyfriend.

My face must have paled or showed my dread in some other way because Logan stepped forward and cupped my cheek in concern.

"Marie?"

"I uhm," I pointed to a rag crumpled on the floor. "I thought that was a rat. It startled me for a second. Sorry, I'm fine."

My real embarrassment must have been enough to convince him because he gave a slow nod.

"I'm okay," I reassured him. "We can just go lie down if you want."

"No, I didn't say I wanted to do that," Logan quickly said. "I just want to make sure you're okay. And if you are, if you still want to check out my motorcycle … "

I relaxed and smiled at his hopeful trail off. "I don't know, I wouldn't want you to wear yourself out. If you need to eat some tapioca or eat some vitamins—"

Logan let out a playful growl and scooped me up. I laughed as he carried me over and set me down on the motorcycle seat.

"You got a lot of sass in that mouth of yours, little girl," he murmured, hiking my leg around his hip. "But I can think of something better to put in it."

"Actually, I suggested the idea, sooo … "

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm literally such a terrible person for ending it here, but I'm kind of swamped with schoolwork right now, so this is all I've got written. The blowjob and maybe more plot will definitely 100% be next chapter though, I swear on Hugh Jackman!**


	11. Marie Can Suck It (MPOV)

**A/N: Quick warning and disclaimer here for this chapter! The sex that follows is very dom/sub BDSM style. A safeword is not used, although safe-action is, ie an action that Marie can do to signal she wants to end the scene. This is a little bit different than the type of sex that's been in this fic thus far, but I feel like it's not unbelievable that Logan and Marie would be into that sort of thing. I would also like to stress that although Logan is very dominating, everything in this chapter is consensual all the way through. There is no element of non or dub-con.**

* * *

><p>"On your knees, baby girl."<p>

I followed Logan's order without hesitation, dropping to my knees in front of him. He leaned back against his motorcycle and threaded his hand through my hair. I let him guide my head between his legs, and I leaned forward to nuzzle at the growing bulge in his sweatpants of my own accord. Normally, I preferred him in jeans, but he'd worn sweats and a wifebeater today since it was just the two of us in his garage. I had to admit it was a good choice, if only because it allowed me such easy access to his dick.

I lathed at one particular spot several times until I made the fabric wet enough that I could feel his dick beneath my tongue. He must not have bothered with underwear, another good choice in my opinion. I wasn't sure if he realized it, but this was my first time giving a blowjob. It just hadn't happened in all the sex and fooling around we'd done so far, which I thought was a little unfair to him.

And I really, really wanted to give him a blowjob. Those scenes were the ones I always marked in the romance novels. The thought of being able to pleasure a man, to make him groan and buck and shudder with only my mouth, got me wetter than anything. And now I finally had my very own kind-of-boyfriend to try it out on.

"Eager, aren't ya?" Logan murmured.

I stopped licking and looked up. Was I being too eager? Did he think I was thirsty or a slut? He must have seen the sudden doubt in my eyes, because he quickly reassured me.

"S'good." His eyes darkened as he brushed his thumb over my bottom lip. "It's real good, darlin'."

I relaxed at the way he looked at me. Tender, like he couldn't believe I was here, and somehow rough too, like he was about five seconds away from shoving his cock down my throat. I was all on board with that last part, and I wanted to see if I could make him do that. I closed my mouth around his thumb and suckled on it. His left hand moved to grip the edge of the leather seat, and he grunted with desire. I rubbed my tongue hesitantly against the pad of his thumb until I found the right way to flick it that made his mouth go slack.

Watching him look at me like, watching him _want me_, made hot tendrils of desire uncurl in my stomach, stretching down to warm between my legs. I nipped at the tip of his thumb, and his hips bucked forward. My eyes squeezed shut as the image of him leaning against the motorcycle, bucking his hips and panting for more, made another hot shudder go through my body.

Logan pulled his thumb out of my mouth, and my eyes shot open. I didn't want this to stop, but I shouldn't have worried. He swiped his wet thumb over my bottom lip and pushed it back in, deeper than it had been before. I gratefully accepted it back into my mouth and sucked hard, hollowing out my cheeks. His eyes stayed locked on my lips wrapped around his thumb.

"Good girl," he told me. "You're so fucking perfect for me, Marie. You're my good baby girl."

I let my eyes drift shut as pleasure flowed through me at his praise. Just being on my knees for him like this felt so much better than I imagined. Objectively, I knew he was the one in control of the situation, and I liked that because it meant I got to relax and not be responsible for making decisions. At the same time though, I also felt like I had a significant power over him too. I was the one making him hard and aching for it, even as that knowledge made me wet and want it just as badly.

Logan worked his thumb in and out of my mouth, sometimes stroking my tongue, sometimes shoving his whole thumb past my lips, down to the second knuckle. I sucked and whimpered and enjoyed it so fucking much. The suggestive motion reminded me of how much I liked his cock inside of me, and my pussy clenched around nothing at the thought. I wanted his cock in my mouth, to feel even thicker, harder flesh sliding past my lips. To taste him on my tongue and have him fuck my throat like it was my pussy.

I thought I might come just from this alone.

"Fuck, baby, you need it bad, don't you?"

Logan pulled his thumb back out, taking it away this time. I opened my eyes and keened for it. He fumbled to push his sweats down, and then his cock was out and all mine. I vaguely registered his hand in my hair again to push my head forward, but I was already leaning forward to lick his cock anyway. The hot flesh tasted salty, so strong it was almost bitter. I'd been expecting that though, so it didn't bother me as much as I worried it might. Honestly, the knowledge that it was physical proof of how much he wanted, that I'd made him just as wet as he made me, overrode the actual taste of it. With that thought in mind, the pre-cum dripping down his cock tasted like heaven.

"Ungh, _fuck_. Gonna … give it to you hard, baby doll."

Hearing Logan groan and curse like that as I licked up and down his length made me stop and gasp out a whimper as more pleasure shook through my body. The way I licked him was sloppy and uncoordinated with absolutely zero skill involved, but my enthusiasm seemed to make up for it. I was so close to coming, on my knees for him, desperately licking his cock. The thought should have made me feel ashamed, but it pushed me even closer to the edge instead.

Then he used his grip on my hair to tug my head away from him. I almost started crying with frustration.

"Marie."

I took in a shaky breath and looked up at the hard sound of his voice. He only said my name, but it was clearly a command.

"You are going to stay still and take it while I fuck your mouth," Logan ordered.

Oh thank God. I kept my mouth open and my eyes on his as I whimpered again to get him to hurry up. His hand in my hair shook for half a second before he visibly got himself under control again. And as much as I wanted what he'd ordered, I was grateful for that because I didn't want him to choke or hurt me.

"If you need to stop, reach up and grab my arm," he said, his voice low and rough like gravel crunching beneath tire treads.

Then he grabbed his dick and guided the head to brush against my lower lip. I had to find my own inner sense of self control to stay still like he'd told me and not yank my hair in his grip. He pushed the tip into my mouth, and I immediately sucked against it, moaning when his taste hit my tongue.

"No."

My eyes snapped up to his and I whined.

"Completely still, Marie," he said.

Oh fuck. I either had to stop this entirely or accept that I couldn't do anything at all. Completely give up control to him. The thought made my vision glaze over with desire, and I moaned again. Thankfully, noises still seemed to be allowed. He waited for a few more agonizing seconds before he pushed his cock further into my mouth. I let out a continuous whine as I fought not to react to that, even with pleasure thrumming through me so strong it constantly felt like I was on the edge of coming. The tip of his cock slid down the back of my throat, and I gagged. He kept my head pulled down flush against his groin with his thick length fully inside me.

And before I knew it, I was coming, still gagging around his cock.

Logan pulled back out to let me get some air, but I made a desperate noise as my orgasm crashed over me. His eyes widened in surprise, but then he pushed his cock back into my mouth and pumped it in out as I came. Each of his thrusts drove me higher and higher until he finally shoved his cock back down my throat and kept it there as I rode out the last of my orgasm.

The aftershocks shuddered through as I sucked gently on his cock, and everything seemed warm and hazy. I felt more relaxed than I ever had in my entire life, almost the way I thought being high might feel. Logan slowly pulled back out, but I didn't protest this time. I was right where I belonged, on my knees in front of him, and he'd fuck me more if that's what he wanted to do.

"Marie, you okay?" he asked.

I hummed out a contented affirmative.

"M'gonna fuck your mouth now until I come, all right?"

"Yes, sir," I answered.

He made a strangled noise and immediately guided my open and willing mouth back down onto his cock, like he couldn't get back inside of me fast enough. I hummed some more as he used my mouth, happy to help him come after how good he'd been to me. It only took another minute before he came, holding my head still with both hands as he rocked his hips forward and shot his release into my mouth. I swallowed several times to get all of it, and we stayed locked together like that for a few moments after he finished.

Eventually, he pulled away and helped me to my feet. The moment I was up, he drew me into his arms for a tight hug. I leaned my whole weight against him and let him hold me. I'd been a good girl, had an orgasm, pleasured him too … life was good.

"Sorry about that," Logan murmured. "Should've given you a safeword."

I looked up at him in surprise. "That was amazing! And I don't know how I would have said it if you did. My mouth was kind of full, you know."

"Still," he said. "We need to talk about it if you're into that sort of thing."

I didn't know exactly what sort of thing he meant. I was very clearly into giving blowjobs, but I didn't quite understand what had happened to make me feel so fuzzy all of a sudden.

"Um, can we do that later?" I asked. "I just wanna … "

Logan picked me up and held me bridal style. "Right now we're gonna go lie down for a while."

"And cuddle?"

Logan chuckled. "Yeah, darlin'. We can cuddle."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This update came a little late in the day, but I think it was worth the wait! ;D**

**Anyway, let me know if you liked this chapter and the more BDSM style direction that I'm taking this in. I wouldn't say I'm new to the culture as I've been reading BDSM literature for about two years now, but I've personally never participated in a scene before. I tried to stress that the sex was all consensual and Marie was able to end the scene if she needed to, despite the lack of a safeword. But if I got anything wrong, please let me know!**


	12. Vending Machine Sushi (3POV)

Logan woke up to Marie scrambling out of bed. He hated being awake before noon if he didn't absolutely have to. Even when he had to, he defined the word "cranky." But for Marie, he drug himself out of bed and into the bathroom to check on her. He heard her retch even before he pushed the door open. He hurried to her side and knelt down to hold back her hair. Marie glanced up at him and tried to say something, but another heave hit her. He rubbed her back and stayed with her until she was done.

"You all right?" he asked softly.

Marie nodded and scooted over to lean back against the wall. Logan got her a glass of water and helped her stand up so she could gargle and ship it into the sink.

"Do you need to go to a doctor?"

She shook her head and gulped down the rest of the water.

"You just threw up, Marie," he said in concern.

She blushed, looked down, and mumbled something. Logan didn't catch what she said, but he was starting to worry it was something self-induced rather than just a stomach bug.

"You're skinny and beautiful and I love you," he blurted out.

Marie's head snapped up. "What?"

Logan realized what he'd just said. Due to his upbringing in foster care, the terrible things he'd done in the army, and his own commitment issues, he'd never said that to a woman before. To be fair, he didn't want to lead anyone on like that, but now all those reasons seemed like bullshit.

Of course he loved Marie. She was kind to everyone, but she didn't take any shit. She cared enough about him to cook him food, and she understood his need for silence and privacy. She never pushed him because she didn't need to. He wanted to be a better person for her without any prompting.

So he powered through the awkward moment.

"Even if you gained weight, you would still be beautiful," he said. "you don't have to force yourself—"

"I ate vending machine sushi," Marie quickly said.

Logan blinked. "What?"

"I um," She chewed on her lower lip. "The vending machines in the LA building sell pre-packaged meals. I bought the sushi. So that's probably why … "

She stopped and made a helpless gesture at the toilet.

"You ate sushi from a vending machine," Logan said slowly.

Marie blushed even more heavily. "Jubilee always eats that sushi, and she's fine!"

"Jesus, Marie."

She looked away with a stubborn pout to her lower lip. Logan hugged her suddenly, pulling her into his arms. She relaxed into the embrace and let him hold her.

"You all right?"

"Yeah," Marie whispered. "I feel better now, and I have a morning class starting soon anyway."

Logan knew he needed to get down to the field to put his team through their morning practice drills, so maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that they'd both woken up early this morning. After Logan double checked on her a few more times, Marie finally convinced him she was okay. They managed to take a shower with a minimal amount of groping—no thanks to Marie—and soon split up to go about their day.

Marie had American Literature Since 1865 with Professor Summers. He was a nice person, he really was, but Marie rarely paid attention in his class. She was perfectly capable of reading the pieces in the literature anthology on her own, and she didn't need a professor to then regurgitate that information into her baby bird mouth a second time.

So she quietly spoke with Professor Summers before class and told him she wasn't feeling well but she would try to tough it out. He was very sympathetic and didn't say anything about it when she took a seat in the far back corner of the room.

Marie spent the next hour and a half researching BDSM. Logan had said he loved her. Was it a mistake? Neither of them had mentioned it, but he hadn't denied or taken it back either. Coming from a man like him, that had to denote some sort of commitment—he wouldn't say that to just any girl that he slept with.

And what they had done in the garage after assembling his shelves was—well, was it BDSM? Marie only had a vague idea of what they was, and her hazy vision pictured dominating men and mewling women. Which was a pretty accurate description of what had happened, but still … Marie was her own person with very firm life goals involving being featured in and one day owning an art gallery. What if he expected to boss her around all the time?

But Marie also didn't want to make judgments about BDSM without at least googling it.

The first thing she learned was that BDSM could be a lifestyle or just a sexual kink, which came as a huge relief. Marie was willing to learn and experiment sexually, but she wasn't ready to jump so deeply into something she had little knowledge about, and "lifestyle" sounded like a full time commitment. She looked up definitions as she went along, and doing research on her own made her feel better.

Next she learned BDSM was about the exchange of power and control. It wasn't that _subs_ (the submissive partner) gave up control to their _Doms_ (the dominant partner), it was that they exchanged control in different ways. She learned about _safewords_ and that a sub could use them to slow down, pause, or even completely stop a _scene_ (a BDSM activity) at any time.

Because of this, the sub had a large amount of control over the situation. What they couldn't do was give orders or direct the scene. That was the control given to the Dom. The result was each partner having an equal amount of control, just expressed in different ways.

That made Marie feel a lot better. The "balance of control" explanation cleared up her initial misconception about the roles of men and women, either of which could be a Dom (Domme for women) or a sub, or even both as a _switch_.

But then her stomach flipped over again. She put her head down and took deep breaths until the class was over, then quickly slipped out the door and made her way to the bathroom. She barely got into the stall before she dropped her bag and threw up for a second time. So much for the poptarts she'd eaten on the way to class.

"Marie?" a female voice called out. "I saw you run in here. Are you all right?"

Marie couldn't respond as she heaved again. She recognized the voice as Dr. Grey's, and she really didn't want to talk to her boyfriend's ex-fuckbuddy anyway. But Dr. Grey stepped right up to the stall and softly rapped the back of her hand against it.

"Marie, sweetie, is there anything I can do for you?" she asked.

"No, I'm good."

Marie spit and flushed the toilet, then gathered up her stuff. Dr. Grey was waiting for her when she came out of the stall and walked over to the sinks. She tried not to let it bother her as the older woman watched her lean over and drink sink water to get the taste out of her mouth.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," Dr. Grey said.

Marie straightened back up. "What? I'm fine, really. I just have a stomach bug or something."

"Oh, sweetie," the other woman sighed with a pitying look. "I can't tell you how many times I've heard a young female student say that. It's always 'just a stomach bug'. Or _something_."

"I'm fine, Dr. Grey," Marie repeated stiffly.

"Call me Jean."

Marie began washing her hands with replying.

"Have you been practicing safe sex?" Jean asked.

Marie refused to look at her. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"I'm just concerned for you," Jean said. "There's a Planned Parenthood not far from campus that—"

"We always use a condom," Marie finally said just to make her stop.

Jean raised an eyebrow in response. "Always?"

Marie turned away to grab some paper towels and dry her hands. Of course Logan had used a condom every time. But now that the idea had been planted in her mind, she raced through her memories of every single time they'd had sex, just to be sure. Recently, she knew for sure because she could remember those times best and she'd just gotten good at putting on the condom by herself. But further back, the memories became a bit more blurry. The first time, definitely, because she'd had that thought about the sex ed banana she'd squished on accident. Then, the next time when he took her to his home and they'd made that bet …

Marie paused. He'd fulfilled his "pean promise" as they'd joked. She'd been on top, then he had, and finally doggy style. But had they used a condom? She couldn't remember them stopping and putting one on him.

Holy shit, they hadn't used a condom and now she was throwing up.

No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. Hadn't she just decided she couldn't give up control of her life to another person? That she had life goals she planned to achieve? That she was too young to commit to a full time lifestyle?

Despite the panic raging inside her, Marie turned around with a calm face. Like hell she would let Dr. Jean "_I'm-the-wicked-witch-of-the-west_"Grey see her sweat.

"Always," Marie said. "If you'll excuse me, Dr. Grey, I have class."

She picked up her bag and left the bathroom at an even pace. Jean remained behind, a little concerned for a young woman she felt partially responsible for as a professor, but mostly curious to know everyone else's business. So she glanced over at the stall to make sure the girl hadn't accidentally dropped anything and left it behind. To return it to her of course.

As luck would have it, good for Jean and bad for Marie, her cellphone had dropped out of her bag's pocket when she dropped it on the floor. Jean stepped into the stall and quickly snatched the phone up off the floor. She was going to return it. But first …

Jean checked Marie's call history. The very first contact that showed up was listed as "Logan Howlett" with his personal cellphone number that she recognized. Her eyes narrowed, and she kept scrolling down.

Logan

Logan

Logan

Jubilee

Logan

Jubilee

Logan

Logan

Jackie

Logan

Logan

Logan

Why was a hard, older man with an unsavory past calling a sheltered, nice young girl like Marie at least twice a day? There weren't any other male names listed in the call history, so the question of the father's identity was clearly answered.

It wasn't that Jean hated Logan. She wasn't a petty person like that, really, she wasn't. It was just that the Dean had the right to know if one of the coaches had knocked up a much younger female student. If someone else found out, it could cause a scandal. And what if she'd been drunk or hadn't wanted it? What if he'd seduced her with false promises?

Jean convinced herself that Logan had been the one to seduce her away from a perfectly happy marriage after all, so who knew what he was capable of?

"Marie!"

The poor little girl turned around at the sound of her voice. Jean gave her a kind smile.

"Is this yours? I think you dropped it."

Marie nodded and murmured out thanks as she took her phone back. Jean kept up her motherly, I-know-best smile. Marie felt a little creeped out and quickly hurried away. Her phone showed the home screen when she turned it on, so she hoped the other woman hadn't messed with anything.

Jean watched her go. Dean Xavier would definitely hear about this, and now Scott would finally know who her choice really was.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The big reveal! This has been in place for about three chapters now. I thought for sure one of you lovely readers would have realized they didn't use a condom in chapter 8, but it passed by without a complaint.**

**How are you all feeling about the way the plot is going? Do you think Logan and Marie can stay together and carry on? How do you think Logan will react to the news? And of course, Jean. Please let me know how you feel about her!**

**Also, if you're craving more BDSM style Rogan, my other fic that I'm currently updating, Love Me Do, features a Rogan chapter with A/B/O dynamics and knotting. So check it out if that's your thing!**

**As for the constant POV shifts, I'm still figuring out which POV I like best. First person for Marie, first person for Logan, or third person for everyone. I'm still learning and growing as an author, and I use these fics to experiment and practice. So please give me feedback!**


	13. Planning for Parenthood (3POV)

"Uh huh. Yes, two'o'clock works. Okay. You too."

Marie ended the call on her cellphone and kept staring at the pregnancy test in her hand. Positive, just like the other five she'd taken. She didn't even wonder why the Dean of the college had just called and wanted to meet with her. She felt like her head was stuffed with cotton balls. Maybe this was what it was like to go into shock.

But Marie was a strong girl, and her iron Southern backbone kicked in a moment later. Sitting on the toilet wasn't going to accomplish anything. A few minutes later, she had all the pregnancy tests hidden and had locked herself in her room. She'd been staying over at Logan's house almost every night for the last few weeks, and it already felt more like home than her tiny apartment.

Would he let her stay? What would she do if he didn't?

After several long hours of calculating costs, seriously considering dropping out of school to get a second or even third job, and lots of research about infant care, Marie decided there was no way she could have a baby on her own. It wasn't that she wouldn't consider the possible—or even that she might actually want it—the problem was that she couldn't afford it.

She paid for her college now through one scholarship that covered all her tuition, a job as a tutor to cover her monthly expenses, and a student loan that paid for everything else. During the summer, she got free boarding when she worked as a Summer Housing Assistant, which was basically a glorified hotel maid for the conferences that stayed at the college. Since she didn't have a car and housing was included, she didn't have very many expenses then and could save almost all of the money she made for three months, which she then put toward paying off her student loan each semester.

Marie was making it all right at the moment, but trying to add a baby to that equation meant she'd have to drop out of school, work two or three jobs, and probably still be in debt. And who would take care of the baby while she worked forty or even sixty hours a week? What if working that much exhausted her to the point that she couldn't adequately care for the baby? She wasn't even twenty-one yet. Everything she knew about infant care could be written down on a napkin.

It didn't take long for her to realize she couldn't give a child a very good life. With firm resignation, she decided she'd have an abortion before she put an innocent child through the trials of poverty and neglect.

Then she sobbed on her bed for about an hour. As entirely unprepared as she was to have a baby, she'd always wanted a family. Art was something she could do at home, meaning she could work at her creative passion and still spend time with her future children. And her imaginary husband would support her so she'd be free to follow both her dreams of an artistic career and a mother. She hated the idea that she could only have one or the other. She wanted both, and a husband who would understand.

It had been such a nice dream. Realistically, she knew the chances of Logan changing his entire life to settle down with her were slim to nonexistent. But in her misery, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like if he did. Between the two of them, they could probably afford to have a baby. Between the two of them, they wouldn't have to leave it home alone or put it in daycare. Between the two of them, they could raise a happy, healthy child.

The key words there were: two of them. If Logan wasn't willing to support her and try his best to be a parent just like she was willing to do, then she simply could not have this baby. But if he did …

Marie sighed and dragged herself out of bed. Maybe and daydreaming wouldn't solve anything. She would meet with the Dean and then schedule an appointment to talk to someone at Planned Parenthood. Those were the practical things to do.

But inside her heart, she would keep hoping.

xxx

Marie sat in front of Dean Xavier's desk, silent after the small talk had trailed off. She still didn't know why the Dean had called her into his office for a meeting, and she had enough problems on her plate without this to add to it.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here," he finally said.

Marie nodded.

"It has come to my attention," the Dean paused as if he thought he was being tactful. "That one of my coaches has pursued a relationship with you."

"I'm of legal age, I'm not on a sports team, and he doesn't teach any classes."

If Marie's voice sounded flat and almost rehearsed, it was a result of how emotionally exhausted she felt. The last thing she needed right now was to have to defend her relationship with Logan when she wasn't even sure if there would be a relationship left after she told him about the pregnancy.

"It's true that your relationship doesn't violate the student code of conduct," Dean Xavier admitted. "But Coach Howlett doesn't have the most sparkling past. I would be more specific than that, except even I haven't been able to access any military files mentioning him that aren't just pages of blacked out lines."

"Was he dishonorably discharged?" Marie asked.

"No, but—"

"Then I don't see how his military service could be used as a slight against his character," she said firmly.

"I fully support our country's veterans," the Dean assured her. "But the fact remains that his service required a high amount killing. Logan Howlett is an older man with a history of violence and alcoholism, and you are a much younger woman at an easily influenced age. If I didn't at least check in with you to ensure that you are well and happy, I fear I would be remiss in my duties to the safety of my students."

Marie listened to that little speech with a blank look. Objectively speaking, she could see that Dean Xavier was looking out for her. While Logan was a good man, not all men were, and it was possible that two other people in their same situation might be in an abusive relationship requiring the Dean's interference. But because Logan was a good man, and Marie felt that his employer should be well aware of that, she didn't really appreciate the Dean's concern.

"I appreciate your concern," Marie said just to get this over with so she could leave. "But Logan has never treated me with anything but respect. He hasn't pressured me for anything in our relationship, and everything we've done has been entirely consensual."

Dean Xavier nodded slowly. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Good," Marie tried to keep her tone from being too curt, but she wasn't sure she succeeded. "Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"Are you aware that there is a Planned Parenthood near campus?"

Marie stayed silent.

"I don't mean to suggest anything," the Dean said gently. "But if your relationship does involve sex, they can provide you with information about and different kinds of birth control, as well as family planning advice. I just want to be sure that you are aware of all of your resources."

"I am."

Dean Xavier waited for a moment, but when she didn't say anything else, he nodded again. "Good. I suppose that's all then. Thank you for meeting with me."

"Thank you," Marie replied automatically.

She left without any more pleasantries and drove back to her apartment, not Logan's house. When she got to her room, she crawled into bed and dropped off into an exhausted sleep, despite it being mid-afternoon.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm sorry I haven't been updating and even this chapter is really short. All my midterms hit at once, and my schoolwork comes before fanfiction. Luckily, everything will be done after today, so I'm thinking about posting a quick chapter on Friday. It will actually be about Jackie and Victor finding out about the pregnancy and conspiring together to meddle in Logan and Marie's relationship. At this point, it almost seems like everyone knows about the pregnancy except Logan, and poor Marie just really needs a hug ... **


	14. A Brief Interlude (3POV)

"It's really just so sad," Jean said in a fake-pity voice.

Emma Frost nodded. "I know. She's so young too."

Jean sighed. "I try so hard to look after my female students, but that's what happens to young girls who try to have a relationship with an older man. I just hope she doesn't try to keep the baby."

Jackie stopped eavesdropping and stepped into the Psychology Department lounge. Jean and Emma looked up from their vicious water cooler gossip. Emma was a Psychology professor, but Jean taught English. Her only purpose for coming down to the Psychology Department was just to gossip. Of course, Jackie's only purpose for coming in was to listen to gossip, but at least she wasn't trying to ruin the reputation of an innocent girl.

"Well it has to be better than what happens to young boys who try to have a relationship with an older woman," Jackie said. "How old was Scott when you snatched him up? A senior in high school?"

Jean glared at the new addition. "I don't see how—"

"I just hope he doesn't try to save the marriage," Jackie continued talking over her. "That's just how those things happen. She makes promises and tells the poor kid she loves him, then fucks literally everyone else with a dick behind his back. So sad, but I guess he should have known better."

"Do you have a reason for being here?" Jean asked coldly.

Jackie held out a book to Emma. "Here's the anthology you wanted. Let me know if you need the other two volumes."

Emma made a quiet murmur of thanks and watched carefully to see if the catfight between Jackie and Jean would develop further. But they each shared a condescendingly polite smile to convey how much they hated each other, and then Jackie turned around and left.

Technically, Jackie didn't know for sure Jean was talking about Marie and Logan. But Logan was all Jean ever talked about, and gossip about his relationship with Marie was starting to get around the campus, so she felt pretty confident about making that assumption. Even if Jean had been talking about a different poor young girl, she needed to keep her bitch face out of other people's business, and Jackie relished the chance to shut her down at every opportunity.

But if Marie really was pregnant … Jackie was torn between disbelief that even Logan could fuck up that badly and absolute certainty that _of course_ Logan would fuck up that badly. She wasn't exactly friends with him anymore. They hung out and watched each other's backs when she stripped full time and he fought in cage matches. But that was a couple of years ago and more of a situational camaraderie than any firm friendship. She wasn't really friends with Marie either. They'd only seen each other a few times, mostly around the library during finals and midterms when Marie came in to study.

Still. Jackie had always gotten the impression of Marie being a genuine, nice person. She didn't want the younger girl to get into a situation over her head without any support, and she didn't feel like she knew Logan well enough to predict how supportive he would be. Maybe he would—

Jackie rounded a corner and hit what felt like a brick wall. She stumbled back and caught her balance, prepared to yell at someone to watch where they were going. Instead, she looked up (and up, goddamn this motherfucker was tall) at the snarky, arrogant, military mass of motherfucking muscle who had promised to lick her cunt until she screamed. She'd done a little investigating and found out he was the new Humanities professor, Victor Creed. She kind of wanted to fuck him just for having such a badass name.

"Are you all right, woman?" Victor asked in a low voice.

"We need to talk," Jackie said without replying.

Victor didn't like the sound of that, but he followed her when she walked off. He'd done his own research on her too. Rather, he'd gotten back into contact with Bradley and put him on it. The tech geek had been understandably nervous about "Sabretooth" appearing on his doorstep again after he'd tried to put that life behind him. He looked up and assembled a file on the woman though, because when Victor Creed told someone to do something, they did it.

Jacqueline Beaumont was born into a wealthy French-Canadian family, trained in ballet since she was a toddler, then disappeared when she was fourteen. No more recitals or public appearances. Her parents told their friends she went to live with other relatives and no missing persons report was filed with the police. Bradley couldn't find anything on her until she turned eighteen, then she officially appeared in the system, paying taxes from her job working as a "waitress" at a strip joint. She bounced around after that, holding jobs as a waitress and a hotel maid, but mostly working as a stripper. Her job at the university was fairly recent, and given Dean Xavier's penchant for lost causes, Victor thought it was safe to assume she'd been a homeless runaway teen during the missing years.

"C'mere."

Jackie gestured him over into a corner away from everyone else where they could talk in private. Victor came over and stood a little too close than what was socially acceptable. Instead of moving away, she leaned a little closer, enjoying his body heat radiating from him.

"Listen, I know your class starts in ten minutes," she began. "And also that Logan Howlett is your brother. I'm not saying that I've been creeping on you or anything, I just know these facts."

Victor slowly nodded. So she had done recon on him too. That was interesting.

"Is my brother bothering you?" he asked. "'Cause I can drop kick his runt ass across campus if you need me to."

Jackie looked him over, her eyes lingering on his biceps. "God, I just bet you could. But I don't think that'll be necessary at this point. Maybe. Hold that thought, I guess."

Victor cocked his head. "What's going on?"

"Is—" Jackie stopped and started again. "How supportive do you think Logan would be … if he knew he knocked someone up?"

Victor felt his stomach drop all the way to the floor. Of course his idiot baby brother had knocked up the one woman who appealed to him. Of course she had fucked Jimmy instead of him. Of course he never had a chance with a beautiful woman who challenged him, flirted with him, and knew Rosalie David's books about Ancient Egypt off the top of her head. How dare he be so stupid as to think he could have something good in his life.

Jackie kept talking without realizing Victor's internal turmoil. "I guess I should apologize for dragging you into petty drama, but I feel like I should at least get the opinion of someone who really knows him before I go yelling at him for being an unsupportive bastard."

"He'll damn well pay whatever he needs to," Victor finally said. "For an abortion, child support, whatever it takes. I'll talk to him about it."

As much as those old feelings of jealousy and hatred reared their ugly heads within him, Victor couldn't really blamed Jackie. Just Jimmy. It was exactly like his dipshit little brother to think with his dick and not use a condom or break the condom or some other dumbfuck move. That wasn't really her fault. Damn near all women threw themselves at Logan anyway, so he shouldn't be surprised she did too. The two of them might have fucked weeks ago, before he even met he met her. She might regret it. Maybe she'd get an abortion. And if she didn't, the kid still deserved two loving parents. Not the way he and James had grown up.

"Thanks. But … " Jackie shook her head and sighed. "Damn, what kind of father do you think he'll be? Is he even capable of settling down and supporting a kid?"

"Jimmy wouldn't abandon his kid," Victor said gruffly. "Or his woman. He's a dumbass, but he ain't like that."

Jackie blinked. "Jimmy?"

The goddamn bastard hadn't even told her his real name. Maybe they were drunk when they fucked. Maybe it was just a one night thing. Victor didn't know if that theory made him feel better or worse.

"James," he said. "I call him Jimmy. That's his real name, but he doesn't use it anymore."

"Why not?" Jackie asked.

Victor cleared his throat and looked away. "He got some idiot thought in his head that it would let me know he really thought of me as a brother. Now I guess it's just force of habit. How, uh … how are you doing?"

"I'm fine." Jackie said with a shrug. "Got to put that bitch Jean in her place, that was fun. Mostly I'm just concerned about Marie."

Victor frowned. "Marie?"

"Yeah. Marie." Jackie stared at Victor for a moment before explaining, "The girl Logan might have knocked up … ?"

She waited for him to say something, but Victor felt like gravity had shifted around him for the second time in only a few moments. Jackie wasn't pregnant. For once in all of world history, this really had been a _I'm just asking for a friend_ situation.

"You thought I was—oh my god, no!" Jackie exclaimed. "Oh shit, no, I did _not_ fuck Logan. You see, I love myself, and … honestly, we would end up in a literal fistfight before we'd end up in bed together."

Victor felt his cheeks heat beneath his muttonchops. "Oh."

Fuck, he hoped she couldn't see him blush. Or how obviously relieved he must look. It seemed too good to be true, that the beautiful woman would go for him instead of Jimmy. There had to be some sort of catch.

Jackie's eyes softened as she looked up at Victor. He really had thought she'd gotten knocked up by his own brother, and he'd still offered to help her. No yelling or blaming her, although he had looked like he wanting to kick his little brother's ass throughout the conversation. Being a Humanities professor, on the dark side of thirty, very well physically fit, obviously intelligent, well dressed, and not scared off by her unique brand of aggressive sexuality made him a prime candidate for a good hard fuck, but trying to help her when he thought he didn't have any chance with her made him—

Well, Jackie wouldn't say relationship material because she didn't do relationships. But she'd gotten pretty tired of how her life was going lately, and sort of lonely too, so maybe it wouldn't hurt to try something with someone who had such good qualifications.

"Do you want to go on a date?" she asked suddenly.

"Yes."

Victor wasn't entirely why she'd asked him or how the topic had changed so quickly. But he figured he'd better capitalize on her offer while it lasted, and he could ascertain her true motives later. His automatic impulse at the moment was to assume the research she'd done on the life he constructed had led her to believe he was reasonably well off, even if she had no way of knowing how wealthy he really was. In this economy however, simple financial stability at the middle class level was seen as uncommonly successful. In that regard at least, Victor might appear attractive to her as a potential mate.

"All right, call Logan," Jackie said. "We'll meet at Panera Bread and have a talk with him. It shouldn't take long, he probably doesn't even know she's pregnant. He'll run off to go be a man for her, and then we'll have our date."

Victor raised his eyebrow. "And how do _you_ know she's pregnant?"

"So far my only evidence is gossip and a hunch," Jackie admitted. "But let's be honest here—how likely do you think it is that your brother and a horny barely-not-teenager managed to use a condom properly all the time, every time?"

Victor stayed silent, having already doubted Jimmy himself.

"And two, how likely do you think it is that if Marie is pregnant, Logan has been observant enough to notice?"

To be fair, Victor had to admit that Jimmy was … situationally aware. Not much slipped past him, in a fight or in real life. But what did go over his head tended to be women shit. Victor wasn't sure if he was arrogant or just naïve, but Jimmy never seemed to realize when frails really did care about him. And it wasn't as if either of them had ever spent a prolonged period of time around a woman before. Victor had a vague idea that pregnant frails puked and had to piss a lot, but that could be mistaken for lots of other things. So the chances that James knew what was going on was pretty slim in Victor's opinion.

"Exactly," Jackie answered her own question. "So are you up for meddling in your brother's life, or not?"

Victor nodded. "Yeah."

"And speaking of getting you up," Jackie reached out and gripped the label of his jacket, tugging him a bit closer. "I seem to remember you making me a lot of promises the other day. You up for that after our date?"

"How loud can you scream?" he asked lowly in response.

Jackie grinned. "How big's your dick?"

Victor took her hand and removed it from her grip on his jacket, then pressed in close to her. His arms went up to frame her against the wall, one on either side of her. Jackie stayed still and watched him. Every one of his actions was clearly dominant, but he kept his movements slow and obvious enough that she felt like she could move aside or stop him at any time. Mostly, she was curious and more than a little aroused to see what he would do.

He leaned down, his eyes locked with hers until his face was low enough for the short hairs of his muttonchops to brush against her cheeks. His nose skimmed over the curve of her shoulder, and she could feel his breath on her neck. Everything about him felt like barely restrained power. Even without hardly doing anything, he was making her wet.

"All you get is my mouth," he murmured in her ear. "If you want to come on my dick, you're going to have to beg for it."

Jackie shivered and arched her neck to give him more access. She'd heard a lot of men talk a big game about fucking her, and she'd let most of them do it, but she couldn't remember the last time any man's seduction technique had included going down on her. Ranting about how big their dicks were, check. Bragging about going all night, check. Telling her she wouldn't be able to walk straight, check. But none of that actually guaranteed she'd have an orgasm and a lot of it seemed more focused on their egos than her pleasure.

This man was different.

"See, now that's another grand promise, sweetheart," Jackie replied.

Victor drug the flat of his tongue over her neck in response, part to convince her he was serious and part to get a taste of her skin. He gave a rumble of approval when she didn't protest. He could spend the next few hours doing nothing but tasting her body, licking her all over and putting his scent on her. This woman should smell like _him_.

"Um … Pro-professor Creed?"

Victor barely stopped from growling as he pulled himself away from his woman and looked up at the college student nervously standing off to the side.

"Are we having class today?" she asked, her eyes wide at seeing her professor pressed up so intimately against a woman who seemed to be enjoying herself very much. "It's—ah, ten after noon, sooo … ?"

"Go teach your class, sweetheart." Jackie leaned up and kissed his jaw. "Pick me up at the library in an hour and a half?"

"Yeah." Victor's voice sounded rough and deeper than usual. "I'll text you."

"Mmm."

Jackie nuzzled her face against the underside of his jaw one last time to make the sexual tension abundantly clear. The poor college student stared hard at the vending machines and hoped she wasn't going to get failed for this. Jackie strutted off, and Victor forced himself not to look at her ass as she went. He had to shrug off his jacket and fold it over his arm to hold it in front of himself so his erection wouldn't be so noticeable.

"Go on," he muttered.

The student practically bolted down the hall as soon as she was dismissed. Victor sighed. It was going to be a long lecture.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry there's no Rogan in this one, but it isn't really a regular update anyway. In fact, I'm pretty sure this will be chapter two of the JackiexVictor version of this fic that I'm working on. But it does set me up nicely for Logan's "intervention" in the next chapter, where he finally finds out about the pregnancy. I just can't keep Jackie and Victor out of my fics anyway.**

**Let me know how you think/hope Logan will react!**


End file.
